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Franklin  D.  Murphy 

Interviewed  by  James  V.  Mink 

Completed  under  the  auspices 

of  the 

Oral  History  Program 

University  of  California 

Copyright  (c)  1976 
The  Regents  of  the  University  of  California 


The  copyright  law  of  the  United  States  (Title  17, 
United  States  Code)  governs  the  making  of  photocopies 
or  other  reproductions  of  copyrighted  material .   Under 
certain  conditions  specified  in  the  law,  libraries  and 
archives  are  authorized  to  furnish  a  photocopy  or  other 
reproduction.   One  of  these  specified  conditions  is 
that  the  photocopy  or  reproduction  is  not  to  be  used 
for  any  purpose  other  than  private  study,  scholarship, 
or  research.   If  a  user  makes  a  request  for,  or  later 
uses,  a  photocopy  or  reproduction  for  purposes  in 
excess  of  "fair  use,"  that  user  may  be  liable  for 
copyright  infringement.   This  institution  reserves  the 
right  to  refuse  to  accept  a  copying  order  if,  in  its 
judgement,  fulfillment  of  the  order  would  involve 
violation  of  copyright  law. 


Access  to  this  interview  is  restricted  during 
interviewee's  lifetime  without  his  written  permission. 


This  manuscript  is  hereby  made  available  for  research 
purposes  only.   All  literary  rights  in  the  manuscript, 
including  the  right  to  publication,  are  reserved  to  the 
University  Library  of  the  University  of  California, 
Los  Angeles.   No  part  of  the  manuscript  may  be  quoted 
for  publication  without  the  written  permission  of  the 
University  Librarian  of  the  University  of  California, 
Los  Angeles. 


Introduction vii 

Interview  History xi 

TAPE  NUMBER:   I,  Side  One  (October  18,  1973) 1 

Nominees  for  chancellor  of  UCLA--Murphy ' s 
chancellorship  at  Kansas--Relations  with  Governor 
George  Docking- -Battles  over  budget- -Personal 
incidents--Invitation  to  UCLA  from  Clark  Kerr-- 
Deciding  to  leave  Kansas--Meeting  with  UC 
regents--Discussing  the  appointment  with 
colleagues--Meeting  with  Kerr--Visiting  UCLA-- 
Meeting  the  community:  the  Chandlers--Discussion 
with  alumni,  faculty--The  final  decision. 

TAPE  NUMBER:   I,  Side  Two  (October  18,  1973) 27 

Assumptions  as  to  authority  of  the  chancellor-- 
Ominous  trip  to  Los  Angeles--Choosing  assistants-- 
Paul  Dodd  vetoed  by  Kerr--Foster  Sherwood-- 
Charles  Young--William  Young--Conf licts  with 
Berkeley:   the  inauguration  ceremony- -Seeking  a 
secretary  for  the  chancellor--Problems  over  the 
campus  switchboard--The  budget--Conf lict  over  a 
Slavic  languages  professor. 

TAPE  NUMBER:   II,  Side  One  (October  18,  1973) 54 

The  regents:  John  Canaday's  recounting  of  the 
appointment  of  Clarence  Dykstra--Legislative 
battles--The  medical  school,  Phil  Davis  vs. 
Jim  Corley--Ed  Carter's  fight  for  dorm 
applications--Kerr  attempts  to  restrict  Murphy's 
contact  with  regents--Def ining  the  role  of 
the  chancellor--Library  battles--Kay  Kerr's 
school  for  chancellors'  wives--And  her  conflicts 
with  chancellors'  wives--Kerr ' s  approach  to 
university-wide  problems--FTE  and  student-faculty 

TAPE  NUMBER:   II,  Side  Two  (October  19,  1973) 76 

Berkeley-UCLA  battles:  first  commencement- -Funds 
for  chancellors'  entertaining--Conf rontation  at  a 
regents'  meeting-- Jesse  Steinhart  as  Kerr 


supporter--Harry  Wellman  as  Kerr  spokesman-- 
Identifying  the  problems:  president's  conflict  of 
interest--Patterns  set  by  Sproul--Glenn 
Seaborg- -Other  chancellors--Support  of  Emil  Mrak-- 
Charter  Day  episode--A  day  for  UCLA  proposed-- 
Chancellor's  role  at  Charter  Day. 

TAPE  hfUMBER:   III,  Side  One  (October  19,1973) 103 

Charter  Day:  Lopez  Mateos  and  Lyndon  Johnson  at 
UCLA--Pauley  arranges  the  event--Kerr  clashes 
with  UCLA  people--Earl  Bolton  assigned  to 
planning--Kerr  accuses  Tom  Davis  of  interference-- 
Kerr  refuses  to  attend,  is  overruled  by  Pauley-- 
Pauley  upbraids  Kerr  and  Murphy- -Letters  of 
appointment  for  deans:  Murphy  seeks  to  include 
chancellor's  name--Kerr's  inadequacy  of 
communication- -The  Berkeley  crisis--Strong  is 
f ired--Berkeley  crisis  compared  with  UCLA. 

TAPE  NUMBER:   III,  Side  Two  (October  19,1973) 131 

Berkeley  riots  as  against  UCLA  atmosphere-- 
The  Strong  firing--John  Saunders  forced  out-- 
Regents  consider  firing  Kerr;  Murphy  opposes-- 
Kerr  remains--Lobbying  on  Kerr's  behalf  with 
Norton  Simon,  Phil  Boyd--Telling  Harry  Wellman-- 
Choosing  a  new  Berkeley  chancellor- -Roger  Heyns 
nominated- -Murphy  meets  Heyns- -Brief ing  Heyns  on 
chancellors'  problems- -Heyns  accepts 
chancellorship,  with  conditions--Chancellors 
united  for  budget  flexibility--Promotions  and 
appointments- -Regents  support  chancellors  over 
Kerr- -The  Reagan-Brown  campaign- -Murphy 
recommends  neutrality;  Kerr  opposes  Reagan. 

TAPE  NUMBER:   IV,  Side  One  (November  15,  1973) 158 

Reagan  is  elected--Kerr  is  away  during  budgetary 
conferences- -Regents  meet,  Kerr  is  asked  to 
resign--Charles  Hitch  chosen  as  Kerr's  successor-- 
Murphy  declines  the  presidency--Ef feet  of  the 
Reagan  regime  on  Murphy's  decision  to  step  down-- 
Actual  reason:  f atigue--Of fer  to  be  chairman  of 
the  Times-Mirror  board--Charles  Young  succeeds 
Murphy--The  Byrne  Report--Murphy ' s  relations  with 
the  Academic  Senate--Strengthening  the 
chancellor's  role--Professional  school  faculty-- 
Appointments  and  promotions. 

TAPE  NUMBER:   IV,  Side  Two  (November  15,  1973) 184 

Appointments  and  promotions--The  Academic  Senate-- 
The  Council  of  Deans--UCLA  Alumni  Association: 
weakness  upon  Murphy's  arrival--The  Davises--Doug 
Kinsey  as  executive  secretary- -UCLA  Foundation-- 
Annual  giving  programs--Murphy ' s  background  as  a 
money  raiser-- "Targets  of  opportunity" -- 
Purchasing  the  stock  of  an  Israeli  bookstore--Ed 
Pauley  and  the  pavilion--Private  support-- 
Agreements  with  President  Topping  and  DuBridge. 

TAPE  NUMBER:   V,  Side  One  (December  6,  1973) 211 

Fine  arts  at  UCLA- -Developing  a  College  of  Fine 
Arts--William  Melnitz--Faculty  opposition  to 
artists  as  opposed  to  scholars--Heifetz, 
Primrose,  Piatigorsky  refused  by  Department  of 
Music--Building  an  art  history  library--The 
Murphy  Sculpture  Garden--The  Brights--Ethnic  art-- 
Building  the  collection--Ralph  Altman--Acquiring 
the  Wellcome  collection--School  of  Architecture 
and  Urban  Planning- -George  Dudley. 

TAPE  NUMBER:   V,  Side  Two  (December  6,  1973) 238 

Professional  schools  at  the  University  of 

[Second  Part]  (December  26,  1973) 239 

Library  development--Robert  Vosper  brought  by 
Murphy  to  Kansas,  then  to  UCLA--Collection 
development  problems--Equalizing  book  budgets 
with  Berkeley--Building  University  Research 
Library--Student  unrest--Administration  Building 
sit-in--Ethnic  studies  programs- -Unrest  as  cause 
of  Murphy  leaving--Athletics-- J.  D.  Morgan-- 
Control  to  chancellor's  of f ice--Of f ice  of  Public 
Affairs--A  retrospective  glance. 

Index 263 

Appendix 274 



Oral  history  is  the  perfect  medium  for  Franklin 
Murphy,  for  he  is  a  notably  vocal  person.   Even  in  this 
transcript  you  can  sense  the  optimistic  timbre  of  his 
voice  and  the  convincing  rush  of  his  words.   I  often  had 
the  impression  that  he  thought  in  the  press  of  argument  and 
lively  discussion  rather  than  in  quiet  reflection.   He 
seemed  frequently  in  the  warmth  of  conversation  or  in  the 
midst  of  an  impromptu  speech  to  hear  himself  suddenly  ex- 
pressing an  opinion  or  an  idea  quite  as  unexpected  and 
convincing  to  himself  as  to  his  audience.   I  don't  recall 
him  ever  reading  a  prepared  speech;  he  would  have  considered 
that  constricting.   The  barest  of  last  minute  notes  suf- 
ficed for  pointed  and  compelling  public  oratory.   He  would 
dictate  a  letter  on  an  administrative  matter  if  need  be, 
but  he  preferred  to  get  you  on  the  phone  or  corner  you 
at  a  cocktail  party  for  an  intense  business  discussion. 
Intensity  and  whirlwind  activity  were  hallmarks  of  his 
style  during  the  almost  twenty  years  that  I  worked  with 
him  as  his  university  librarian  at  both  the  University  of 
Kansas  and  UCLA.   His  remarkable  administrative  assistant 
Hansena  Fredrickson  put  it  most  aptly  when  she  said  somewhere, 
as  I  recall  it,  that  he  was  the  only  boss  she  knew  who  could 
enter  a  room  through  two  different  doors  simultaneously; 


and  I  would  add,  talking  forcefully  if  not  fiercely. 

Franklin  Murphy's  remarkable  contribution  to  American 
higher  education  is  implicit  in  this  colorful  and  frank 
interview,  but  it  deserves  to  be  stated  explicitly.   Other 
men,  but  probably  not  very  many,  have  presided  over  more 
than  one  university.   But  very  likely  no  one  else  has 
consecutively  taken  on  two  rather  subdued  or  dispirited 
universities  and  in  short  order  pressed  them  to  a  national 
level  of  distinction  (in  UCLA's  case  even  international 
distinction)  by  the  sheer  force  of  his  personal  conviction, 
the  power  of  his  vocal  argument,  his  utter  impatience  with 
dullness  or  the  second  rate,  his  innate  sense  of  timing, 
his  political  acumen,  and  his  administrative  drive.   He 
gave  not  just  leadership,  but  more  importantly,  a  strong 
sense  of  pride  and  heart  to  both  KU  and  UCLA.   I  think  it 
actually  the  case  that  both  universities  were  transformed 
by  Franklin  Murphy's  personal  dynamism;  this  was  not  abstract 
administrative  principles  and  ability  so  much  as  personal 

As  with  most  of  us,  Franklin  Murphy  used  certain  symbols 
to  rally  his  cause.   The  "free  marketplace  of  ideas"  was 
one.   Another,  as  I  can  especially  testify,  was  that  library 
quality  is  the  best  measuring  stick  for  university  distinction. 
Both  in  Lawrence  and  in  Los  Angeles  he  used  this  symbol 
with  brilliant  success — convincing  alumni,  the  general 


public,  legislators,  and  even  some  narrow  faculty  members 
that  a  great  library,  including  scarce  and  valuable  books, 
is  essential  to  academic  quality.   And  for  him  this  was 
no  abstract  belief.   He  reads  widely,  rapidly,  and  purpose- 
fully, and  he  himself  was  turned  to  book  collecting,  while 
he  was  a  student,  by  a  colorful  Kansas  City  antiquarian 
bookseller,  the  late  Frank  Glenn. 

But  as  is  evident  in  this  interview,  he  has  other 
passionate  interests,  particularly  in  the  arts,  and  he 
is  always  attracted  by  people  or  programs  that  combine 
brilliance  and  enthusiasm  with  sheer  knowledge.   When  he 
found  such  a  combination  in  a  program,  such  as  modern 
sculpture  or  ethnic  arts,  or  in  the  person  of  such  scholars 
as  a  Donald  O'Malley,  Lynn  White,  or  Milton  Anastos,  Murphy 
as  chancellor  could  be  counted  on  for  an  equal  measure 
of  enthusiasm  and  for  generous  support,  both  moral  and 

The  UCLA  sculpture  garden  is  most  fittingly  marked 
with  his  name,  as  is  the  music  building  at  the  University 
of  Kansas,  for  they  are  true  indicators  of  his  enthusiasms. 
It  is  equally  fitting  that  UCLA's  administration  building 
should  bear  his  name.   Often  such  a  designation  might  be 
pro  forma,  but  in  this  case  it  correctly  recalls  that 
Franklin  Murphy  gave  meaning  and  power  to  the  office  of 
chancellor  at  UCLA,  and  thus  to  campus  administration,  in 


a  unique  and  enduring  way. 

Franklin  David  Murphy  was  born  January  29,  1916  in 
Kansas  City,  Missouri,  the  son  of  a  physician  father  and 
a  musician  mother.   After  taking  his  A.B.  at  the  University 
of  Kansas  in  1936,  he  went  on  for  his  M.D.  at  the  University 
of  Pennsylvania,  1941,  where  he  interned  and  taught  as 
an  instructor  for  two  years.   In  19  46  he  returned  to  his 
alma  mater,  as  instructor  in  the  University  of  Kansas 
School  of  Medicine.   Within  two  years  his  meteoric  admin- 
istrative career  began,  with  appointment  as  dean  of  the 
school  in  1948.   His  drive  to  carry  the  skills  and 
graduates  of  the  school  to  the  small  towns  and  rural  com- 
munities of  Kansas  was  so  successful  in  all  ways,  including 
political  ways,  that  in  1951  he  was  called  to  Lawrence  as 
chancellor  of  the  university.   The  story  of  that  career 
from  1951  to  1960,  as  well  as  the  subsequent  career  at 
UCLA  as  chancellor  from  1960  to  1968,  is  sharply  delineated 
in  this  oral  history  interview.   Then  his  innate  sense 
of  timing  shifted  him  into  a  different  milieu,  where  I  hope 
he  is  equally  successful,  innovative,  demanding,  and  personally 
involved,  as  chairman  of  the  board  and  chief  executive 
officer  of  the  Times-Mirror  Corporation. 

Director  of  the 
William  Andrews  Clark 
UCLA,  1976  Memorial  Library 


INTERVIEWER:   James  V.  Mink,  University  Archivist  and 
Head,  Department  of  Special  Collections,  UCLA 
Library.   BA,  MA,  History,  UCLA;  BLS ,  University 
of  California,  Berkeley;  Certificate  in  Archival 
Administration  and  Preservation,  American  Univer- 
sity, Washington,  D.C. 


Place:   The  library  of  Franklin  D.  Murphy's  home 
at  419  Robert  Lane,  Trousdale  Estates,  Beverly 

Dates:   October  18,  19,  November  15,  December  6, 
26,  1973. 

Time  of  day,  length  of  sessions,  and  total  number  of 
recording  hours:   The  interviews  took  place  in  the 
midafternoon,  with  sessions  varying  from  a  half- 
hour  to  two  and  one-half  hours  in  length.   Total 
recording  time  for  the  interview  was  eight  hours 
and  fifteen  minutes. 

Persons  present  during  interviews:   Mink  and  Murphy. 
Mrs.  (Judy)  Murphy  was  present  at  the  session  of 
October  19.   Joel  Gardner  was  present  December  6 
to  operate  the  video  equipment. 


In  preparation,  the  interviewer  perused  scrapbooks 
and  records  from  the  Office  of  the  Chancellor  and 
sought  questions  from  university  associates  of  Franklin 
Murphy,  such  as  Andrew  Hamilton,  former  director  of 
the  Office  of  Public  Information.   The  interviewer 
set  out  to  pursue  a  biographical  framework;  however,  Dr. 
Murphy  preferred  to  begin  his  memoir  at  the  moment  of 
his  first  notification  that  UCLA  would  be  interested 
in  bringing  him  west  to  be  chancellor. 

With  biographical  details  filled  in  and  interspersed, 
the  narrative  continued  chronologically  with  the 
Murphys'  arrival  at  UCLA  and  the  many  problems 
faced  by  the  new  chancellor  in  developing  autonomy 
for  the  campus.   He  described  in  detail  his  inter- 
play with  Clark  Kerr,  president  of  the  University  of 


California.   The  interviewer  then  employed  a 
subject-by-subject  approach  to  the  Murphy  years 
at  UCLA,  including  the  chancellor's  particular  inter- 
est in  the  professional  schools,  athletics,  alumni 
affairs,  and  the  fine  arts,  especially  the  Franklin 
D.  Murphy  Sculpture  Garden  and  the  Museum  of  Cultural 
History.   The  interview  concluded  with  a  look  at 
the  state  of  education  in  the  sixties  and  seventies 
and  the  administrative  successor  to  Dr.  Murphy, 
Charles  Young. 


Editing  was  done  by  Joel  Gardner,  editor,  UCLA  Oral 
History  Program.   The  verbatim  transcript  of  the 
interview  was  checked  against  the  original  tape 
recordings  and  edited  for  punctuation,  paragraphing, 
correct  spelling,  and  verification  of  proper  and 
place  names.   The  final  manuscript  remains  in  the 
same  order  as  the  original  taped  material.   Words 
and  phrases  inserted  by  the  editor  have  been  brack- 

Dr.  Murphy  reviewed  and  approved  the  edited  transcript 
of  his  interview.   He  made  minor  corrections  and  de- 
letions and  also  supplied  spellings  of  names  that 
had  not  been  verified  previously. 

Joel  Gardner  compiled  the  index  and  prepared  other 
front  matter.   Robert  Vosper,  former  university 
librarian  at  both  the  University  of  Kansas  and  UCLA, 
wrote  the  introduction.   The  manuscript  was  reviewed 
by  the  interviewer  and  by  Bernard  Galm,  director  of 
the  Program,  before  it  was  typed  in  final  form. 


The  original  tape  recordings,  video  tape  segment 
(December  6,  1973),  and  edited  transcript  of  the 
interview  are  in  the  University  Archives  and  are 
available  under  the  regulations  governing  the  use 
of  noncurrent  records  of  the  University. 


TAPE  NUMBER:   I,  Side  1 
OCTOBER  18,  1973 

MINK:   I'd  understood  that  you  were  high  on  the  list  of 

possible  nominees  for  the  presidency  of  the  university. 

Did  you  get  any  feedback  on  that? 

MURPHY:   You  mean  at  the  time  of  Bob  Sproul? 

MINK:   At  the  time  that  Bob  Sproul  retired. 

MURPHY:   No,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  knew  nothing  about 

that  until  I  had  come  to  California.   It  was  subsequently 

that  both  Ed  Pauley  and  Ed  Carter  told  me  that  at  the  time 

Bob  retired,  they  had  in  the  pot  my  name.   They  had  a  lot 

of  names,  but  as  I  recall,  when  it  came  down  to  the  wire, 

as  it  were,  they  had  John  Gardner;  they  had  myself;  I 

think  they  had  McGeorge  Bundy,  who  was  then  dean  at 

Harvard;  and  Clark  Kerr,  who  was  chancellor  at  Berkeley 

at  the  time.   I  was  told  by  Ed  Pauley  that  my  name  got  into 

the  pot — that  Bob  Sproul  put  it  in.   I  also  remember  that 

Ed  told  me  that  at  that  time  he  had  talked  to  Harry 

Truman,  who  was  an  old  friend  of  his  and  an  old,  old 

friend  of  mine,  and  that  Truman  had  strongly  recommended 

that  the  regents  ask  me  to  go  to  Berkeley  as  president. 

But,  I  never  knew  anything  about  this  until  after  I'd 

been  at  UCLA  for  several  years. 

MINK:   While  you  were  the  chancellor  at  the  University  of 

Kansas,  it  was  asserted  by  the  press  that  you  were  at  odds 
with  Governor  [George]  Docking. 
MURPHY:   I  was. 

MINK:   And  I  wonder  if  you  could  give  some  of  the  back- 
ground of  this  activity,  possibly  as  a  comparison  with 
some  of  the  things  that  you  faced  at  UCLA  later. 
MURPHY:   Well,  George  Docking  was  a  very  peculiar  man. 
He  lived  in  Lawrence,  Kansas;  he  was  the  head  of  a  bank 
there.   But  he  was  a  man  who,  over  the  years,  had  become 
known  as  a  person  with  an  ungovernable  temper,  an  unpre- 
dictable quirk  about  him.   You  couldn't  know  which  direction 
he  was  going.   The  result  was,  in  that  little  university 
town  of  Lawrence — long  before  I  ever  got  there — he  was 
never  asked  by  the  establishment,  as  it  were,  related  to 
the  university,  to  get  on  commissions  involving  the 
university.   In  short,  the  establishment  rejected  him, 
because  he  did  have  this  reputation  of  losing  his  temper 
ungovernably,  even  physically  striking  out  sometimes. 
This  was  his  greatest,  greatest  problem — his  temper. 
And  people  just  didn't  want  him  around.   He  had  developed 
over  the  years,  therefore,  a  covert  hatred  of  the  univer- 
sity, because,  as  I  say,  he  was  never  drawn  in — to  be  an 
alumni  member  of  the  Athletic  Board  or  an  alumni  member 
of  the  Union  Operating  Committee  or  these  kinds  of  things — 
whereas  the  other  members  of  the  civilian  establishment 

in  Lawrence  who  were  alumni  of  the  university  were  in- 
volved.  In  fact,  they  were  the  ones  that  sort  of  black- 
balled him  out  because  of  this  quirk  of  temper. 

Well,  when  I  became  chancellor,  I  met  George.   I 
went  to  Lawrence.   I  got  along  with  him  well,  George 
Docking,  and  his  wife  especially.   My  wife  and  I  were 
very  fond  of  his  wife,  Virginia.   As  a  result  of  a  variety 
of  political  circumstances  that  are  unnecessary  to  relate. 
Docking  ran  as  a  Democrat  for  governor  in  Kansas  and  was 
elected  because  the  Republicans  had  torn  themselves  asunder, 
(A  Democratic  governor  in  Kansas,  until  recently,  has 
been  as  rare  as  snow  in  June  in  Kansas.   This  was  a  freak 
thing,  politically.)   Then  almost  right  after  he  became 
governor  (he  was  elected  in  the  fall) ,  the  university 
budget  was  up  for  processing,  as  it  were,  by  the  governor's 
office  before  it  went  to  the  legislature  in  January.   And 
to  my  amazement  and  enormous  surprise,  he  took  some  bitter, 
bitter  cuts  at  the  budget — unreasonable,  unnecessary.   I 
went  up  and  talked  to  him  about  it,  asked  him  what  was 
up,  and  was  astonished  to  see  this  venom  pour  out:   "This 
goddamned  university,  now  they'll  know  who  George  Docking 
is."   Really,  in  effect  he  was  saying,  "I'll  get  back  at 
you  guys  after  the  way  you  have  ignored  me" — not  me  per- 
sonally, but  the  university. 

Well,  it  was  clear  to  me  that  I  had  to  get  major 

restorations  by  the  legislature  in  the  budget.   And  I 
had  to  get  them.   The  legislature  was  Republican,  but 
the  Republican  majority  was  not  quite  large  enough  to 
override  a  governor's  veto.   So  I  had  to  get  not  only 
the  Republican  majority  to  agree  to  these  restorations, 
but  I  had  to  get  enough  Democrats  to  vote  with  the 
Republicans  to  override  what  I  assumed  was  a  predictable 
gubernatorial  veto.   And  I  set  out  to  do  just  that.   I 
mobilized  our  alumni;  I  organized  the  state;  I  personally 
went  to  friends  of  mine.   I  had  been  a  graduate  of  the 
University  of  Kansas;  by  that  time,  many  of  my  classmates 
at  the  university  were  now  publishers,  even  in  the  legis- 
lature— even  some  Democrats  in  the  legislature.   I  reminded 
them  of  our  long-standing  friendship,  and  to  make  a  long 
story  short,  the  legislature  restored  these  unreasonable 
cuts.   Docking  vetoed  them,  and  they  overrode  the  veto. 
And  this  absolutely  infuriated  him. 

From  that  point  on,  he  set  out  really  to  get  me. 
It  became  now  not  a  university  vendetta,  but  a  personal 
vendetta.   The  Kansas  legislature,  even  in  those  days, 
met  annually.   They  had  biennial  sessions  for  general 
legislation  and  budget,  but  they  also  had  an  annual 
budget  session.   So  for  four  consecutive  years,  I  had  to 
go  through  this  exercise  of  getting  restorations  in  our 
budget  and  getting  overrides  of  his  veto,  involving 

getting  Democrats  to  incur  his  wrath  and  rage,  enough  to 
override  the  veto. 

Well,  this  man,  as  I  say,  had  an  ungovernable  temper. 
There  are  a  niomber  of  little  interesting  episodes.   For 
example,  one  of  his  close  friends  was  a  man  called  Louis 
Oswald,  who  was  a  lawyer  in  Hutchinson — very  close  to 
Docking  and  had  been,  and  supported  him  in  his  campaigns 
and  so  on.   Oswald  was  a  friend  of  mine,  but  most  of  all 
he  loved  the  university.   One  night  he  related  this  story 
to  me:   One  night  he  was  at  the  governor's  mansion  and 
he  was  at  dinner  with  Docking  and  his  wife,  Virginia, 
and  his  son.  Bob — who  is  now  governor  of  Kansas,  inter- 
estingly.  There  were  the  four  of  them  at  dinner,  and 
Louis  Oswald  brought  up  the  question,  why  didn't  George 
stop  this  vendetta?   that  he  was  only  hurting  himself, 
that  the  university  was  important  to  the  state.   His  wife 
then  chimed  in  and  said,  "George,  Louis  is  absolutely 
right;"  and  his  son  said,  "Dad,  look,  enough's  enough. 
Now  let's  get  on  with  the  business  of  the  state."   Where- 
upon George  got  up,  face  red,  absolutely  enraged,  irrational, 
accused  them  all  of  letting  him  down,  physically  knocked 
his  wife  aside--she  fell  to  the  floor — and  said  that  he 
never  wanted  to  see  any  of  them  again,  they  were  all.... 
And  very  profane.   Well,  this  went  on,  and  he  gradually 
began  to  attack  me  publicly  and  imply  that  I  was  dishonest. 

When  the  press  pressed  him  on  that  he  got  off  it,  because 
he  couldn't  prove  it. 

But  this  episode  happened:   A  very,  very  close  friend 
of  mine,  Joe  McDowell,  a  Democrat  who  was  a  state  senator 
and  very  powerful  in  the  state  senate — I  think  he  was  the 
minority  leader  in  the  state  senate — called  me  up  one 
day  and  said  he  wanted  to  see  me  privately.   He  was  from 
Kansas  City,  Kansas.   The  next  time  I  was  down,  I  went  to 
see  him.   He  said,  "Franklin,  listen.   You  must  be  very 
careful."   I  said,  "What  do  you  mean?"   He  said,  "Now, 
look,  I  don't  know  anything  about  your  private  life. 
But,"  he  said,  "anywhere  around  here,  the  Middle  West, 
don't  you  dare  have  anybody  in  your  hotel  room,  any  female 
who's  not  your  wife."   And  he  said,  "Secondly,  if  you're 
in  a  hotel  somewhere — Wichita,  Topeka,  Garden  City  or 
something — and  you  hear  a  knock  on  the  door,  don't  let 
anybody  in  until  you  inquire  who  they  are."   I  said, 
"What  are  you  talking  about?"   He  said,  "I  wouldn't  be 
at  all  surprised  if  some  night  you  hear  a  knock  on  the 
door  and  a  lady  will  say,  'Can  I  come  in?   I  must  use  your 
phone,'  or  something,  close  the  door,  promptly  tear  her 
clothes  off,  and  scream  bloody  murder."   I  said,  "Joe, 
you  can't  be  serious!"   He  said,  "I'm  deadly  serious." 

Another  legislator  came  to  me  and  said,  "Look,  do 
you  keep  close  tabs  on  your  expense  accounts  when  you 

travel?"   And  I  said,  "Yes.   Well,  I'm  supposed  to." 
He  said,  "You'd  better  keep  very  close  tabs  on  these  ex- 
pense accounts.   And  secondly,"  he  said,  "where  do  you 
keep  them?"   I  said,  "I  keep  them  in  my  office  file." 
"Well,"  he  said,  "you'd  better  make  duplicates  of  these 
files,  because  someday  those  office  files  may  be  rifled, 
and  there  won't  be  any  documentary  material;  and  then 
you'll  be  accused  of  misuse,  and  you  won't  have  any  docu- 
mentary material  to  furnish  us." 

So  it  was  at  this  level.   Now,  in  all  fairness,  none 
of  those  things  ever  happened.   But  these  were  very  res- 
ponsible people  who  were  telling  me  this. 

Now,  the  governor  really  put  pressure.   The  only  way 
I  could  get  these  vetos  overridden — because  the  university 
would  have  been  destroyed,  really,  the  budget  cuts  he  was 
playing  around  with — and  the  only  way  I  could  get  any 
real  support  in  this  regard  was  to  be  out  in  the  state 
all  the  time,  talking  to  Rotary  clubs  and  this  and  that 
and  the  other  thing,  talking  to  publishers,  because 
Docking,  with  his  press  conferences,  would  imply  that 
money  was  being  wasted  at  the  university.   He  would  take 
things  out  of  context.   I  remember  once  he  talked  about 
our  buying  some  rare  book  and  implied  that  we  were  spending 
all  this  money  on  only  rare  books — stuff  like  that. 

Well,  in  the  end,  he  finally  created  a  situation 

which  made  it  clear  to  me  that  it  was  not  possible  for 
me  to  effectively  run  the  university,  because  given  the 
technique  of  appointing  regents ,  he  had  proceeded  after 
four  years  to  get  a  majority  on  the  board.   Now,  I  was 
handicapped  not  only  by  his  vetoes  there,  but  by  his 
instructions  to  the  board  to  do  certain  things  with  our 
budget.   And  although  I  had  more  success  with  the  board, 
I  had  some  real  problems  with  it.   So  I  finally  decided 
that  the  best  way  that  the  university  could  be  served 
would  be  for  me  to  go  on. 

Now,  I'd  made  up  my  mind  to  this  some  time  before 
I  got  the  approaches  from  UCLA.   I  will  say  also — and 
I'll  come  to  that  in  a  minute,  let  me  just  finish  this — 
I  also  had  been  told  by  this  time  that  Docking,  stupidly, 
had  put  himself  in  a  position  of  making  me  a  kind  of 
martyr.   The  unfairness  of  his  attacks  were  now  beginning 
to  accumulate--and  publishers  were  telling  me  this,  my 
newspaper  friends  around — but  the  irrational  character 
of  this  man,  his  hatred,  and  all  the  rest  of  it  were 
such  that  he  was  oblivious  to  this.   It  was  clear  to  me 
that  the  only  way  the  university — and,  for  that  matter, 
all  of  higher  education  in  Kansas — could  really  get  going 
again,  in  a  sense,  would  be  for  Docking  to  be  driven 
out  of  office.   He  was  very  popular  because  he  ran  on 
a  program  over  and  over  again  of  cutting  taxes  and  keeping 

down  expenses  and  all  this  sort  of  thing.   Kansas  is 
basically  a  conservative  state. 

So  a  lot  of  my  friends  told  me  that  they  hoped  I 
wouldn't  resign,  but  they  always  said,  "If  you  resign" — 
Docking  had  announced  he  was  going  to  run  again — "you 
don't  realize  how  you  have  gotten  the  affection  of  the 
people  of  the  state,  the  alumni  and  so  on.   It's  going 
to  do  terrible  political  violence  to  him. "   So  I  made 
up  my  mind  that  some  time  in  1960,  prior  to  the  election, 
I  was  going  to  quit,  resign.   Now,  I  had,  at  that  time, 
offers  from  at  least  two  universities.   I'd  also  been 
giving  some  thought  about  going  back  to  Washington,  because 
I'd  been  importuned  from  time  to  time.   I  wasn't  so  high 
on  that,  and  you  know,  this  had  been  very  erosive  to  my 
quietude;  I'd  just  been  under  this  pressure  all  this 
time.   I  was  part  of  a  group  that  for  many  years  went 
to  South  America,  a  group  called  CHEAR.   Clark  Kerr  was 
in  that  group.   And  in  spring  of  1960,  there  was  a  meeting 
in  Chile.   Clark  took  me  aside,  and  he  said,  "Look,  we're 
looking  for  a  chancellor  at  UCLA.   The  regents  have  had 
a  committee  and  everything,  scoured  the  situation,  and 
you're  their  niimber  one  choice.   Would  you  be  interested 
in  coming  to  UCLA  as  chancellor?"   I'd  always  been  attracted 
to  California  for  a  number  of  reasons — as  a  symbol,  you 
know.   It  seemed  to  me  this  was  a  state  which  was  on  the 

move,  this  sort  of  thing.   Although  I'd  spent  most  of 
my  life  in  the  East  and  Midwest,  my  sister  lived  out  here. 
I  had  happy  memories  of  college  when  I  had  a  summer 
session  at  UCLA.   I  remembered  the  campus  then.   I'd 
been  on  it  subsequently  when  Kansas  played  UCLA  at  foot- 
ball in  1958.   Ray  Allen  was  still  chancellor.   So  I 
said  I'd  look  at  it.   And  I  came  out  twice,  brought  Judy, 
and  finally  decided — and  I'll  get  into  that  later — that 
I'd  really  like  to  try.   And  the  reasons  I  was  convinced 
of  this,  as  I  say,  I'll  get  in  later. 

Well,  then  I  went  back  and  announced  the  fact  that 
I  was  leaving.   And  there  was  a  huge  press  uproar.   I 
think  all  the  press  clippings — somebody  kept  them  for 
me--the  editorials,  are  over  in  the  library,  and  you've 
got  some  flavor  of  the  reaction  in  the  state.   They 
really  came  down  on  Docking.   I  never  accused  Docking 
in  any  of  my  statements.   I  simply  said,  "I've  been 
here  eight  years;  I  think  it's  time  to  go  on.   It's  time 
to  get  some  fresh  blood."   Never  mentioned  him,  because 
I  really  wanted  to  destroy  him  in  the  process  of  my  leaving, 
and  I  knew  to  get  in  a  fight  with  him  would  not  help 
destroy  him.   And  I  say  that  flatly.   I'm  sure  there  was 
some  personal  rancor  by  that  time,  but  at  least  my  rational- 
ization was  that  this  university  is  going  to  be  in  trouble 
as  long  as  he's  governor.   And  I  was,  needless  to  say, 


enormously  pleased  when  he  came  up  for  reelection  a  third 
time  and  was  badly  beaten.   And  although  I'll  take  no 
credit  for  it,  a  lot  of  the  editorial  writers  at  the  time 
the  next  morning  said  that  he'd  gotten  his  comeuppance 
in  a  large  measure  because  of  this. 

It  was  a  strange  thing.   His  wife,  during  all  that 
period,  would  get  messages  to  me  and  my  wife  indirectly: 
"Look,  I  don't  understand  this;  I  hope  you  and  Judy  under- 
stand I'm  not  a  part  of  it;  there's  nothing  I  can  do." 
His  son  used  to  get  messages  to  me  indirectly.   We'd  been 
fraternity  brothers,  members  of  the  same  fraternity,  at 
Kansas.   Since  Bob  Docking  has  been  governor  in  Kansas, 
he  has  been  very  good  to  the  university.   He  has,  on 
more  than  one  occasion,  consulted  with  me  about  university 
requests  and  some  major  programs  in  expanding  the  medical 
school.   And  I  think,  in  retrospect,  I've  been,  in  a  way, 
helpful  to  the  University  of  Kansas,  just  because  of  Bob's 
desire  to  erase  that  blot  from  a  Docking  family  member. 

It  was  a  moment  in  my  life  that  was  exciting,  because 
you  were  in  a  real  struggle  and  a  battle,  and  that  keeps 
your  blood  boiling.   It  was  very  enervating,  however. 
MINK:   You  said  it  was  disturbing  to  your  quietude.   I 
wonder  if,  just  for  the  record,  you  would  go  on  now  to 
describe  this  transition  from  Kansas  to  UCLA:   the  acti- 
vities that  you  were  involved  in,  the  trips,  the  people 


you  saw,  the  bases  you  touched. 

MURPHY:   Good.   Let  me  say  first  of  all,  however,  that 
I  had  gotten  into  education  administration  very  early  in 
my  life.   I  became  dean  of  the  University  of  Kansas  School 
of  Medicine  when  I  was  thirty-two  years  old.   And  the  job 
there  was  to  really  rehabilitate  a  medical  school  that  had 
fallen  on  bad  times  because  of  the  fact  that  there  had 
been  no  change  in  administration  for  twenty-five  years — 
no  new  ideas,  no  nothing.   Immediately  I  was  plunged  up 
to  my  ears  in  legislative  manipulation  and  money-raising 
and  curricular  reconstruction  and  leading  a  faculty 
toward  reforming  itself.   I  left  that  job  after  three 
years  because  Dean  [D.W. ]  Malott,  the  man  who  got  me  into 
it,  left  and  went  to  Cornell;  and  the  regents  said,  "You've 
now  got  to  come  and  run  the  whole  university."   In  the  pro- 
cess of  running  the  University  of  Kansas,  and  looking  back 
on  the  medical  school  experience,  I  suddenly  began  to 
realize  that  running  a  large  educational  institution  is 
not  a  lifetime  job  anymore,  that  due  to  the  complexity 
of  the  problem  and  the  pressures  that  current  society 
makes  possible,  that  a  person,  in  doing  innovative  things 
and  in  pushing  an  institution  forward,  not  only  must  give 
out  an  enormous  amount  of  energy — emotional  and  physical — 
but  he  also  creates  scars.   And  they  accumulate.   So  I 
gradually  had  gotten  to  the  notion  that  with  or  without 


George  Docking,  ten  or  twelve  years,  I  used  to  say  to 
myself,  is  as  long  as  a  person  ought  to  stay  in  one  higher 
educational  job. 

And  let  me  say  here  in  advance  why  I  left  UCLA:   that 
my  years  at  UCLA,  nine,  had  convinced  me  that  my  original 
suspicions  when  I  was  at  Kansas  were  absolutely  valid; 
that  nobody — and  I  can  say  this  flatly  now--in  my  view, 
ought  to  be  in  a  position  of  top  leadership  in  a  univer- 
sity for  more  than  ten  and  at  most  twelve  years,  regardless 
of  age.   I  must  say  that  this  attitude  is  growing.   Barney 
Keeney  left  Brown  on  these  grounds.   The  man  at  Yale  at 
the  moment,  Kingman  Brewster,  has  told  me  plainly  this  is 
clearly  his  view.   Bob  Goheen  left  Princeton  well  before 
his  retirement  age  because  of  the  same  attitude.   And 
that  was  partly  in  my  mind.   I  suspect,  I  repeat,  if 
George  Docking  had  not  been  there,  within  two  more  years 
I  would  have  probably  gone  elsewhere. 

Okay,  now  UCLA.   How  did  I  get  here?   Well,  right 
at  this  time,  as  I  told  you,  I  had  been  one  of  the  founding 
members  of  something  called  CHEAR,  Commission  on  Higher 
Education  in  American  Republics,  a  group  of  university 
presidents  funded  by  the  Carnegie  Corporation,  the  Rockefeller 
Foundation,  the  Ford  Foundation.   We'd  go  every  year  to 
South  America,  meet  with  our  colleagues  down  there,  and 
commonly  discuss  problems  in  both  hemispheres  in  higher 


education.   I'd  become  chairman  of  the  group  and  also 
head  of  the  executive  committee,  and  I  had  recommended 
that  we  turn  over  some  of  the  members,  keep  a  core  group. 
And  one  year  we  turned  over  some  members,  and  I  recommended 
that  Clark  Kerr  be  added — because  Clark  had  just  been 
made  president  of  the  University  of  California;  maybe 
he'd  been  in  there  a  couple  of  years.   So  I  got  to  know 
Clark,  and  Clark  got  to  know  me.   Furthermore,  as  Ed 
Pauley  subsequently  told  me,  he  had  remembered  his  conver- 
sation with  Harry  Truman,  and  a  number  of  the  regents 
had  remembered  Bob  Sproul ' s  recommendation  that  I  succeed 
him  as  president. 

Ray  Allen,  as  you  know,  was  fired,  and  this  was 
terribly  upsetting  to  the  UCLA  alumni.   You  know  all 
about  that  bitterness — that  Allen  should  have  stood  up 
and  didn't,  and  Allen  was  caught  between  Sproul  and  the 
alumni  down  here  and  so  forth  as  a  result  of  that  football 
scandal  and  other  matters;  and  I  gather  he  wasn't  a  strong 
man  in  any  event  in  his  leadership  qualities,  in  the  sense 
that  he  didn't  fight  Sproul,  as  subsequently  I  had  to 
fight  Kerr,  and  didn't  have  a  rapport  with  the  regents 
and  so  on.   Anyway,  the  UCLA  alumni  had  made  their  views 
crystal  clear  to  a  number  of  the  southern  regents.   By 
God,  they  didn't  want  just  some  guy  who'd  been  around  the 
University  of  California  system  and  who  had  not  had  the 


experience  and  the  guts  to  push  the  UCLA  position.   They 
had  been  conditioned  by  Sproul ' s  destruction  of  Dykstra; 
they  had  remembered  Sproul ' s  promises  to  them  about  the 
authority  Dykstra  would  have  which  Dykstra  never  got; 
and,  in  short,  they  didn't  trust  Berkeley. 

Well,  a  number  of  the  southern  regents,  including 
Ed  Pauley — who,  although  a  Berkeley  graduate,  was  very 
much  attached  to  UCLA — accepted  this  concept  in  principle 
and  told  Kerr  that  they  wanted  a  man  who  could  just  as  well 
run  the  whole  university  as  UCLA,  a  man  of  that  quality, 
that  experience,  that  background  and  visibility.   And 
they  told  Clark  that  they  didn't  see  anybody  within  the 
system  that  had  that  independence  and  experience  and 
strength.   And  the  reason  they  said  that  was--I  learned 
all  of  these  things  subsequently — Dean  McHenry,  who  was 
a  UCLA  graduate,  very  much  wanted  the  job,  and  Dean 
McHenry  was  one  of  Clark  Kerr's  closest  friends.   Their 
wives  had  been  roommates  at  Stanford  and  so  on.   McHenry 
was  shot  down  immediately  by  these  selfsame  regents  who 
said,  "No,  he's  not  run  a  university." 

Clark  finally  turned  to  me.   I  suspect  he  was  direc- 
ted to  turn  to  me,  really.   Now,  I  don't  want  to  put 
Clark  down  on  this,  because  I  don't  think  he  came  to  me 
reluctantly,  but  I  think  he  was  directed  to  me .   I  think 
Ed  Pauley  and  some  others  said,  "Now,  you  go  talk  to  this 


fellow  Murphy." 

Well,  as  I  say,  Clark  raised  the  subject  with  me  down 
in  Santiago,  at  Vina  del  Mar,  at  these  meetings.   I  was 
going  through  the  views  that  I  indicated  I'd  had,  the 
Docking  thing,  and  really  getting  a  little  tired  of  this 
thing  and  seeing  no  end  in  sight.   And  then  I  came  back 
from  that  trip  in  February  with  Mrs.  Murphy,  and  we 
arrived  in  Kansas  City,  and  there  was  one  of  the  greatest 
snowstorms  in  their  history--ten,  twelve  feet  of  snow  on 
the  ground.   We  had  to  fight  our  way  up  to  Lawrence. 
The  snow  didn't  get  off  the  ground;  it  was  one  of  the 
worst  winters.   And  I  talked  to  Judy,  and  Judy  said, 
"Look,  you  call  Clark  Kerr  and  say  that  you'd  like  at 
least  to  look  at  it."   These  were  all  little  things, 
really.   You  know,  if  you  really  wanted  to  stay,  to 
hell  with  the  snow. 
MINK:   Sure. 

MURPHY:   So  I  said,  first  of  all,  that  I  wanted  to  come 
out  myself.   And  Clark  said,  "Yes,  we  want  you  to,  because 
I've  only  asked  you  on  behalf  of  the  regents  whether  you're 
interested  in  the  job,  but  the  regents  want  to  talk  to 
you."   So  I  came  out  at  the  time  of  the  regents'  meeting, 
which  was  being  held  at  Berkeley.   (In  those  days,  as 
you  know,  they  held  the  meetings  on  the  campus.)   And  I 
met  with  a  committee  of  regents — Don  McLaughlin;  Ed 


Pauley;  Ed  Carter;  John  Canaday;  I  think  Bill  Forbes, 
who  was  alumni  president  and  as  a  result  on  the  regents; 
Ellie  Heller,  no,  not  Ellie.   Anyway,  I  met  with  these 
regents.   And  we  had  a  conversation  back  and  forth,  and 
it  was  pretty  pro  forma.   They  asked  me  my  views  on  a 
lot  of  things,  and  I  gave  it.   I,  in  turn,  asked  them 
their  views  and  how  they  conceived  the  chancellorship. 
Kerr  was  present.   In  retrospect,  I  realize  I  was  probably 
a  little  too  polite  in  terms  of  sharpness  of  my  questions 
to  them.   But  we  parted.   Dean  McHenry  or  Harry  Wellman 
was  asked  to  show  me  around  the  Bay  Area — the  usual  kind 
of  thing.   And  I  left. 

Clark  called  me  a  few  days  later  and  said  that  the 
regents'  committee  were  very  impressed  with  me,  and  that 
he  was  in  a  position  to  proffer  the  offer.   And  I  said, 
"Well,  now,  Clark,  I  want  to  get  down  to  some  serious 
talking,  because  I  can't  accept  the  offer  until  I  get 
some  issues  clarified.   Furthermore,  I  now  want  Mrs. 
Murphy  to  come  out  and  take  a  look  at  things."   So  it 
was  arranged  for  Judy  and  I  to  come  out  very  quietly; 
this  was  supposed  not  to  be  known.   (Gee,  it's  interesting 
how  all  these  things  come  back.) 

Before  I  came  out,  I  called  some  friends  of  mine 
around  the  country  in  whom  I  had  great  confidence.   John 
Gardner  was  one.   John,  who  was  then  head  of  the  Carnegie 


Corporation,  I  knew  knew  a  great  deal  about  higher  edu- 
cation and  especially  California.   He  was  a  Stanford  and 
Berkeley  graduate.   I  called  [O. ]  Meredith  Wilson,  who 
was  then  president  of  the  University  of  Minnesota,  a  very 
close  friend.   I  spoke  to  Jim  Perkins,  who  was  then  vice- 
president  of  the  Carnegie  Corporation;  as  you  know,  he 
subsequently  went  on  to  become  president  of  Cornell.   I 
spoke  to  Henry  Wriston,  who  had  just  retired  as  president 
of  Brown  University.   And  I  spoke  to  Harold  Dodds,  who  had 
just  retired,  an  old  friend  of  mine  who  was  president  of 

They  all  told  me  the  same  thing.   In  effect,  they 
said,  "Franklin,  it's  an  impossible  job.   And  the  reason 
it's  impossible  is  (a)  the  chancellor  is  powerless,  rela- 
tively.  There's  a  strong  tradition  in  the  University  of 
California  of  faculty  control  over  the  substantive  issues 
in  education  on  the  one  hand;  and,  administratively,  the 
Berkeley  operation  runs  the  place.   You're  far  away,  and 
the  north  doesn't  like  the  south  anyway.   There's  a  long 
history  of  Berkeley  trying  to  keep  UCLA  down,  both  in 
administrative  as  well  as  the  faculty  levels,  and  you  will 
not  have  even  the  administrative  independence.   So  don't 
take  it."   Well,  I  won't  say  that  that  determined  me  to 
take  it.   That  would  be  dishonest.   But  it  intrigued  me. 
I  couldn't  believe  that  this  was  the  situation. 


So  I  came  out.   I  spent  several  days.   There  were 
two  parts  to  my  coming  out  that  time--me  on  the  one  hand; 
my  wife  on  the  other — and  I'll  deal  with  both.   As  far 
as  I  was  concerned,  I,  first  of  all,  insisted  on  talking 
to  two  or  three  regents  privately.   And  I  spoke  to  Ed 
Carter,  and  Ed  Pauley,  and  John  Canaday.   And  I  honestly 
told  them  what  these  people  had  told  me.   They  said, 
"Look.   We  are  in  the  process  of  decentralizing  adminis- 
tration.  We  think  it  has  been  overcentralized.   Your 
friends  are  right  in  terms  of  the  past  and  maybe  even 
the  present;  but  we  know  this  has  got  to  change,  and  we 
will  support  you  in  your  effort  to  get  the  kind  of  author- 
ity that  matches  the  responsibility. " 

Then  I  insisted  on  having  a  talk  with  Kerr  in  this 
regard,  the  same  kind  of  a  conversation.   In  both  of  those 
cases,  I  made  a  mistake,  in  retrospect.   I  spoke  in  the 
abstract,  and  I  didn't  pinpoint  who  does  what,  who  does 
what,  who  does  what.   And  I  got  the  usual,  "Oh,  no  problem, 
Franklin,  you'll  find  a  cooperative  administration  at 
Berkeley  and  all  of  the  authority  you  need" — quote-unquote— 
"you  will  have."   So  the  question  is,  who  determines  what 
authority  you  need?   If  I  came  under  any  illusions  or  false 
premises,  in  all  fairness  it  was  my  fault,  in  that  I  didn't 
sharpen  the  questions.   Unfortunately,  I  assumed  these 
were  honorable  people.   I'm  not  implying  they  were  dishon- 


orable,  but  I  didn't  realize  how  far  apart  their  concep- 
tion of  authority  and  mine  really  was.   I  assumed  that 
they  could  understand  this,  believed  it. 

The  other  side  of  the  coin  was,  my  wife  came  and 
went  up  to  the  house--Vern  Knudsen  was  ill  when  she  was 
here;  Mrs.  Knudsen  was  there — and  Judy  was  absolutely 
shocked.   This  great  university,  and  she  looked  in  the 
kitchen--there  was  a  stove  that  ought  to  belong  to  the 
Smithsonian  Institution;  an  icebox  that  hardly  ran;  the 
furniture  was  run  down;  this  and  that.   And  she  asked 
Mrs.  Knudsen  about  this,  and  Mrs.  Knudsen  made  very  little 
effort  to  convince  Judy  that  this  was  the  place  to  come 
to.   Whether  it  was  because  she  was  enjoying  being  the 
chancellor's  wife  for  a  while,  I  don't  know. 
MINK:   That  was  one  year.   And  they  knew  in  the  beginning 
that  it  was  one  year. 

MURPHY:   Yeah.   Well,  whatever  reason,  she  kept  saying, 
"We  don't  get  anything  we  ask  for."   And  Judy  came  to 
me;  she  said,  "Well,  Franklin,  if  I'm  supposed  to  operate 
even  in  a  larger  milieu,  the  way  we  tried  to  do  in  Lawrence 
with  students  and  faculty  and  the  community,  this  is  impos- 
sible."  I  checked  with  Hansena  Frederickson,  and  I  dis- 
covered that  in  this  large,  well-financed  university,  the 
budget  for  entertainment  was  less  than  the  one  I  had  at 
Kansas.   There  was  none,  practically.   So  much  for  that. 


That  side  of  it  looked  not  that  good. 

Then  I  decided  I  needed  to  know  what  the  community 
wanted,  because  I  had  discovered  in  Kansas  that  in  order 
to  do  the  things  there  that  had  to  be  done,  I  had  to  have 
the  community.   I  had  to  have  the  community  believing 
in  the  importance  of  the  university  and  supporting  it 
and  working  for  it,  and  in  turn  you  had  to  therefore 
communicate  with  the  community.   So  I  insisted  on  going 
and  having  a  talk  with  Mrs.  [Dorothy]  Chandler,  who  was 
then  a  relatively  new  member  of  the  board,  and  Norman 
Chandler,  neither  of  whom  I'd  ever  met.   I  had  a  wonder- 
ful conversation  with  them  and  got  an  image  and  a  view 
of  Mrs.  Chandler's  and  Norman's  view  about  how  Los  Angeles 
was  coming  along,  how  it  was  really  changing  in  terms 
of  intellectual  vitality  as  a  result  of  the  postwar 
developments .   They  very  much  encouraged  me  to  come  and 
guaranteed  their  support  as  appropriate,  but  made  a  very 
strong  point  with  the  fact  that  one  of  the  great  defi- 
ciencies of  UCLA  was  that  the  university  on  the  one  hand 
and  its  leadership  on  the  other  had  really  not  gotten 
involved  in  the  community  nearly  enough,  that  this  had 
almost  gone  by  default  to  USC  and  some  of  the  private 
institutions,  and  that  one  really  had  to  make  a  commit- 
ment not  only  to  scholarship  and  the  scholarly  world 
but  to  the  community  that  nourishes  you.   Well,  I  found 


that  interesting  and  exciting,  because  that's  precisely 
what  I  had  done  all  those  years  in  Kansas. 
MINK:   I  don't  want  to  interrupt  your  train,  but  it 
intrigues  me.   Did  Norman  and  Buffy  say  why  UCLA  had 
never  reached  out  and  become  involved  with  the  community? 
MURPHY:   Well,  yes,  the  reason  they  gave  was  the  character 
of  the  leadership.   I  reminded  them,  for  example,  of  the 
extension  program.   Even  from  a  distance,  I  knew  that 
UCLA  Extension  was  one  of  the  best  in  the  whole  United 
States.   And  yet  the  point  was  that  in  spite  of  that, 
people  of  that  quality  and  caliber  were  saying  the  uni- 
versity at  UCLA  is  outside  the  community.   I  had  my  own 
views  on  that  subsequently.   I  think  it  was  partly  the 

MINK:   I  think  it  was  the  image,  too,  don't  you? 
MURPHY:   The  image?   Partly. 

MINK:   Because  it  had  had  a  bad  image  ever  since  Moore. 
Moore  got  us  into  the  trouble,  and  we  never  lived  that 

MURPHY:   That's  right.   That  was  clear. 
MINK:   And  the  Times  didn't  help  it. 

MURPHY:   That  was  clearly  there.   The  "little  red  school- 
house"  business.   Sure.   Well,  I  didn't  get  that  little 
red  schoolhouse  business  till  later,  till  after  I  got 
here.   [iced  coffee  break]   Yes,  I  discovered  that  very 


strongly.   But  I'll  have  to  come  to  that.   Their  view  was 
that  it  needed  strong  leadership — that's  about  all  I  can 
remember — and  they  would  be  supportive. 

Then  I  sat  down  with  an  alumni  group,  and  it  was  from 
them  I  began  to  get  the  problems  vis-a-vis  Berkeley  in 
very  real  terms. 

MINK:   Who  did  you  get  those  from?   Forbes? 
MURPHY:   Phil  Davis,  in  a  strong  way.   You  know  who  Phil 
was . 

MINK:   I  talked  to  Phil. 

MURPHY:   Do  you  have  his  oral  history,  I  hope? 
MINK:   Only  in  my  mind.   We  didn't  do  it. 
MURPHY:   Oh,  I'll  get  into  some.   It'll  be  hearsay,  but 
I  had  long  talks  with  Phil,  because  he  played  a  crucial 
role  in  the  development  of  this  institution.   Mr.  [Edward 
A.]  Dickson  encouraged  him  to  run  for  the  legislature, 
and  as  you  know,  he  was  a  really  partisan  person. 

But  Phil  Davis  had  a  group  of  alumni  at  his  house, 
and  they  sat  and  talked  to  me,  and  I  with  them.   And  I 
asked  them  what  they  felt  they  wanted,  and  they  wanted 
somebody  who  could--a  strong  chancellor  is  what  they  said-- 
someone  who  could  have  the  guts  to  stand  up  to  Berkeley. 
That  was  the  essence  of  a  two-hour  conversation. 
MINK:   Well,  that  would  have  been  Phil's  main  pitch, 
because  he  was  really  strong  about  this. 


MURPHY:   But  all  the  other  alumni,  many  of  whom  had  been 
presidents--in  fact,  it  was  a  group  of  past  presidents  of 
the  Alumni  Association.   And  of  course,  as  past  presidents, 
many  of  them  had  served  on  the  board.   And  they  had  first- 
hand experience  as  to  how  UCLA  repeatedly  got  the  little 
end  of  the  stick,  and  how  Sproul  had  gone  back  on  his 
commitment  to  give  Dykstra  authority,  and  how,  in  effect, 
Sproul  had  really  cut  the  heart  out  of  Ray  Allen  on  the 
PCC,  or  whatever  it  was — football  problem.   So,  the  sum 
and  substance  of  their  message  was:   "We  think  you  know 
about  higher  education;  you've  got  a  good  track  record 
where  you've  been  (we  don't  know  enough  about  that;  we're 
going  to  talk  about  it) .   Your  big  problem  is  to  give 
UCLA  visibility."   They  did  talk  about  this  relationship 
to  the  community.   That's  when  I  first  began  getting  this 
little  red  schoolhouse  problem  fed  in. 

MINK:   Did  you  have  the  impression  that  they  were  sensi- 
tive to  the  fact  that  UCLA's  image  was  low  profile,  that 
there  perhaps  was  a  hesitancy  on  the  part  of  the  university 
to  extend  itself  into  the  community  simply  because  it 
felt  that  it  might  be  rejected  by  the  community? 
MURPHY:   Yes,  that  was  part  of  it,  and  I  also  began  to 
understand  this  reservoir  they  felt  was  in  the  community, 
that  all  the  Communists  were  out  here  and  all  the  good 
guys  were  at  USC — that  kind  of  thing. 


Then  I  had  a  meeting  in  the  chancellor's  study  with 
a  committee  of  the  faculty.   On  that  committee,  I  can't 
remember  all,  but  I  remember  Foster  Sherwood  was  there. 
That's  when  I  first  got  an  impression  of  Foster.   There 
were  key  leaders — Swedenberg  was  there,  Tom  Swedenberg, 
and  I  can't  remember  who  else.   I  think  Vern  Knudsen 
climbed  out  of  bed;  he'd  had  the  flu  or  something.   He 
was  there.   There  were  about  ten.   I  leveled  with  them, 
and  I  told  them  what  I'd  been  told  by  distinguished 
leaders  in  the  field  of  higher  education.   Well,  they 
then  explained  the  Academic  Senate  tradition  to  me,  and 
I  said,  "Well,  look,  you  know,  one  thing '11  never  work, 
and  that's  the  division  of  authority  and  responsibility. 
And  I  do  not  come  here  to  make  the  campus  safe  for  the 
faculty.   I'm  also  realist  enough  to  know  that  if  you 
haven't  got  the  faculty  behind  you,  you  charge  into 
battle  without  any  troops.   But  I  wouldn't  take  this  job," 
I  said,  "unless  I  felt  that  I  could  be  what  the  regents 
say  they  want,  the  alumni  say  they  want — namely,  a  strong 
chancellor.   And  if  I'm  a  strong  leader,  inevitably,  given 
what  I  understand  to  be  the  administrative  track  record 
here  at  UCLA  with  chancellors  going  in  and  out  like  a 
revolving  door,  usually  fired,  with  a  committee  of  three 
or  people  like  that  running  the  place,  that  you  really 
haven't  had  this.   So  I  think  you  don't  want  to  recommend 


me  if  you  just  want  a  figurehead.   On  the  other  hand," 
I  said,  "the  only  person  who  can  get  you  what  you  want, 
a  fair  share  of  the  resources  that  the  state  of  California 
put  into  higher  education,  is  someone  who's  strong.   And 
he  can't  be  strong  in  one  place  and  weak  in  another." 
So  this  was  a  very  plainspoken  conversation. 

The  net  result  of  this  was  that  they  all  reported 
back  to  Kerr,  and  then  Kerr  called  and  said,  "Look. 
You've  got  to  come;  we  want  you;  everything  is  fine," 
and  so  forth.   So  I  pulled  the  family  together  and  we 
had  a  conversation,  all  four  children.   The  two  oldest 
ones  I  had  to  talk  with  most  because  they  would  be  dis- 
rupted in  high  school.   They  all  said,  you  know,  "Dad, 
if  you  want  to  do  it,  that's  the  thing  to  do."   And  so 
we  came  to  California. 


TAPE  NUMBER:   I,  Side  2 
OCTOBER  18,  19  73 

MINK:   I  caught  one  thing  that  intrigued  me.   Maybe  you've 
answered  this.   You  said  you  were  perhaps  too  polite  when 
you  were  talking  at  the  board  meeting  about  coming,  too 
polite  in  lack  of  sharpness. 

MURPHY:   Not  precise  enough.   In  other  words,  in  the  whole 
area  of  what  authority  does  the  chancellor  have  vis-a-vis 
the  president?   "Well,  all  that  he  needs."   Well,  at  that 
point,  clearly,  in  retrospect,  I  should  have  said,  "Well, 
all  right,  to  be  specific,  how  is  a  faculty  member  promoted? 
How  is  a  faculty  member  appointed?   Who  makes  decisions 
about  salaries?"   Things  like  that.   You  see,  at  Kansas 
there 'd  never  been  any  question.   I  had  the  responsibility 
of  running  the  place.   Given,  the  system  of  the  recommen- 
dations came  up,  but  the  final  authority  before  it  went  to 
the  regents  was  mine.   And  I  assumed  that  the  president 
of  the  university  was  a  coordinating  sort  of  person,  a 
representative  at  the  legislature,  a  man  who,  in  essence, 
pulled  all  the  university  budgets  together,  presented  them 
to  the  legislature  after  regental  approval.   But  it  just 
didn't  cross  my  mind  that  the  internal  operations  of  the 
institution,  the  final  authority  there,  belong  anywhere 
but  the  chancellor.   Now,  if  I'd  asked  some  of  these 


specific  questions,  I  probably  would  have  ascertained  that 
their  notion  of  what  authority  was  was  so  far  removed  from 
what  I'd  been  accustomed  in  authority  that  we  had  a  huge 
gap.   But  I  don't  blame  that  on  them.   I  blame  that  on  me. 
I  just  didn't  ask  sharp  enough,  precise  enough  questions. 
MINK:   Well,  now,  when  you  came  to  talk  to  the  faculty 
here  in  the  chancellor's  office.... 

MURPHY:   It  was  in  the  study  of  the  chancellor's  residence. 
MINK:  his  residence,  you  found  that  traditional 
methods  of  appointment  in  the  Academic  Senate  were  different 
from  those  that  you'd  been  used  to  at  Kansas? 
MURPHY:   Not  substantially,  because  again,  I  think  those 
fellows,  in  the  end,  probably  wanted  me  to  come,  in  retro- 
spect.  So  what  I  got  from  the  Academic  Senate  fellows 
was  the  letter  of  the  law.   You  know,  the  budget  committee 
and  all  these  other  committees  are  presumably  advisory. 
But  common  law  had  developed,  where  advice  became  final 

MINK:   It's  pretty  much  that  the  chancellor  didn't  go  more 
than  once  or  twice  against  one  of  these  committees  before 
people  began  asking  questions. 

MURPHY:   That's  right,  and  saying  that  "you're  interfering 
with  our  prerogatives."   Furthermore,  they  did  not  get 
into  the  question;  and,  again,  it's  probably  I  didn't  ask 
the  right  questions.   They  didn't  even  get  into  the  question, 


I  assumed  that  if  I  were  to  overrule,  that  was  it.   And 

finally,  my  recommendation  went  to  the  regents.   What  I 

didn't  comprehend  was  that  I  would  overrule  and  Kerr  could 

overrule  me.   Now,  this  became  very  important  and  led 

to  probably  my  most  severe  confrontation  with  Kerr,  when 

I  ripped  away  this  authority,  finally,  and  got  the  regents 

to  agree  to  it. 

MINK:   He  hadn't,  in  his  initial  talks  with  you,  or  talks 

prior  to  your  appointment  or  immediate  subsequent  to  it, 

promised  any  more  autonomy  in  this  and  in  other  respects 

as  far  as  UCLA  was  concerned. 

MURPHY:   You  see,  that's  just  my  point.   He  said,  "You'll 

have  all  the  authority  you  need."   I  don't  blame  Kerr. 

Kerr  didn't  lie  to  me.   I  didn't  ask  the  questions  either 

of  him  or  the  regents  or  of  the  faculty  senate  as  to  what 

they  meant  by  authority,  because,  as  I  say,  it  didn't 

come  into  my  mind  that  a  man  could  be  asked  to  run  at  that 

time  a  15 , 000-student,  complicated  university  campus  and 

not  have  roughly  the  same  authorities  administratively 

within  the  campus  that  I'd  had  at  Lawrence.   See,  it  just 

didn't  occur  to  me.   I'll  come  in  a  moment  to  my  first 


MINK:   When  did  that  come? 

MURPHY:   Well,  let  me  just  get  to  that.   So  we  get  here 

in  the  summer,  July  1,  after  a  horrible  trip.   I  must  say, 


I  should  have  sensed  that  the  omen  of  the  trip  itself 
presaged  some  problems.   We  bought  a  new  Chevrolet  station 
wagon.   Three  of  our  children  were  at  camp,  so  Mrs.  Murphy 
and  I  set  out  with  our  second  daughter,  Martha,  to  drive 
from  Lawrence  to  Los  Angeles.   I'd  spoken  to  Hansena 
Frederickson  on  the  phone,  told  her  roughly  what  night 
we  would  get  in.   She  told  me  where  the  key  to  the  house 
would  be,  which  was — I  forget  precisely,  but  it  would  be 
in  a  certain  place.   What  happened  was  that  we  drive  across 
the  country,  and  within  six  hours  of  leaving  Lawrence, 
there  was  a  huge  knocking  in  the  motor.   We  discovered 
one  of  the  drive  rods  was  broken.   We  had  it  repaired; 
middle  of  the  next  day,  the  same  thing  happened;  and  to 
make  a  long  story  short,  it  was  a  defective  motor.   All 
of  our  side  trips  that  we'd  planned--to  see  the  Petrified 
Forest  and  all  that  sort  of  thing — were  out.   We  literally 
went  from  garage  to  garage  to  get  here.   It  was  the  most 
horrible  motor  trip  I've  ever  taken. 

Secondly,  we  limped  into  Los  Angeles  along  about  mid- 
night, having  crossed  the  desert  (a  horrible  trip,  you 
know,  in  July;  the  air  conditioning  in  the  car  broke  down) , 
and  finally  arrived  at  midnight  in  the  chancellor's  residence 
(I  finally  found  it;  I'd  never  driven  there  before),  and 
the  key  wasn't  there.   It  turned  out  it  was  there  but  it 
was  in  the  wrong  place.   The  person  Hansena  had  told  had 


put  it  in  the  wrong  place.   I  had  to  get  the  university 
police — and  I  didn't  know  where  the  hell  they  were — to 
come  around  and  open  up  the  house.   Of  course,  there  was 
no  furniture  there.   There  were  some  old  mattresses,  so 
we  laid  them  down.   We  didn't  even  take  our  clothes  off 
to  sleep  that  night. 

Then  we  had  the  problems  of  moving  in,  but  the  next 
thing  that  happened — I  think  the  third  day — a  fire  started. 
It  was  in  the  morning,  and  all  of  a  sudden  we  heard  fire 
engines  roaring,  and  they  roared  right  up  to  the  front 
of  the  chancellor's  house.   Somebody  had  thrown  a  cig- 
arette on  that  hill  on  the  west,  you  know,  and  a  fire 
was  going  on.   They  had  to  put  the  fire  out. 

The  next  morning  we  got  up,  and  we  couldn't  get  any 
hot  water.   The  reason  for  that,  we  discovered  finally, 
was  that  there 'd  been  a  slight  earthquake  the  night  before 
which  we  had  not  noticed,  and  they  had  earthquake  safety 
things  on  the  gas  pipes  which  knock  the  gas  off  at  the 
time  of  an  earthquake;  so  there  was  no  gas  to  heat  the 
hot-water  heater — all  of  this,  you  know,  in  one  period 
of  time.   Judy  finally,  jokingly,  said  one  night,  "Franklin, 
do  you  think  we  made  the  right  choice?   Somebody's  trying 
to  say  something  to  us."   Anyway,  that  wasn't  serious. 

So  I  got  into  the  usual  planning  and  sitting  down, 
getting  to  know  and  meet  my  staff,  talking  to  people  and 


all  that  sort  of  thing.   The  first  thing  I  needed  to  do 
was  to  select  a  vice-chancellor.   I  talked  to  a  lot  of 
people  about  this.   I  knew  because  of  the  particular 
character  of  the  University  of  California,  my  total  lack 
of  knowledge  of  it-...   (And  I  didn't  know  anybody,  you 
know.   Mrs.  Murphy  and  I  came  to  Southern  California 
literally  with  only  one  person  that  we  knew — namely, 
my  sister.   All  of  our  friends  were  in  the  Middle  West 
or  in  the  East.)   I  didn't  know  much  about  the  institu- 
tion, didn't  know  anybody  on  the  faculty;  and  I  began 
making  inquiry,  concluded  that  I  really  was  going  to  get 
my  number-two  academic  fellow,  at  least,  from  within  the 
institution.   And  I  made  further  inquiry,  and  I  finally 
concluded  that  far  and  away  the  best  man  for  the  job  was 
Paul  Dodd.   And  I  developed  then,  and  have  never  ceased 
having,  enormous  respect  for  Paul  Dodd.   In  fact,  many 
of  the  things  that  I  got  credit  for,  Paul  had  already 
gotten  underway.   And  it  is  clear  to  me  that  if  there  was 
anybody  around  there  for  the  previous  six  to  eight  years 
who  was  really  a  strong  man,  although  quiet  in  his  way,  it 
was  Paul. 

I  spoke  to  Kerr  about  this.   (This  is  in  the  very 
beginning,  and  I  had  total  confidence  in  Kerr  and  his 
candor  and  his  way  of  doing  business.   As  you  see,  before 
this  is  over,  I  wound  up  having  no  confidence  whatsoever. 


because  I  don't  want  to  be  too  harsh,  but  I'd  been  dis- 
illusioned so  many  times.)   I  called  Clark,  and  I  said, 
"You  know,  I  think  the  first  appointment  I  want  to  make 
is  Paul  Dodd  as  my  vice-chancellor.   I'd  like  to  talk 
with  you  about  it,  because  you  know  about  these  people 
better  than  I  do."   He  said,  "Franklin,  no  way."   I  said, 
"What  do  you  mean?"   He  said,  "The  regents  would  never 
approve  him."   I  said,  "Why?"   He  said,  "There  are  two 
or  three  regents  that  have  an  intense  dislike  for  Paul 
Dodd  going  back  to  the  loyalty  oath  days."   He  said, 
"You  have  no  idea  of  the  depth  of  feeling  in  these  people 
related  to  that  time."   He  listed,  you  know,  six  or  eight 
people.   "There's  no  way  you  can  get  that  done."   "Well," 
I  said,  "all  right.   I'm  deeply  disappointed.   Do  you  mind 
if  I  talk  to  some  of  them?"   "Oh,"  he  said,  "you  can  talk. 
I'm  just  telling  you  what  you'll  hear."   So  I  talked  to 
two  of  them  and,  boy,  it  was  clear  to  me  that  that  was 
the  best  possible  way  to  get  off  on  a  bad  start. 

So  I  had  to  give  that  thought  up;  and  then  I  began 
again  canvassing  the  faculty;  and  I  finally  began  hearing 
more  and  more  about  Foster  Sherwood.   A  man  of  integrity, 
he  was  a  man  who  knew  the  university  well;  he  knew  the 
operations  of  the  senate;  he  could  keep  me  from  out  of 
the  sand  traps  and  the  quicksand  of  the  senate;  Kerr 
thought  highly  of  him.   He  had  not  been  that  visible 


vis-a-vis  the  regents,  so  he  didn't  have  any  scars  there. 
I  talked  to  Foster.   I'd  been  rather  impressed  with  him 
when  I'd  met  with  that  first  senate  group.   So  that  was 
my  first  move. 

My  second  move  was  to  look  around  for  an  administrative 
assistant,  a  troubleshooter  type.   There  was  a  man  there, 
whose  name  I've  completely  forgotten  now,  whom  Allen  had 
brought  in,  and  I  decided  to  work  with  him.   I  wasn't 
terribly  impressed  with  him.   (The  records  will  show  who 
he  is;  as  I  say,  I  just  can't  remember  the  name.)   But 
after  six  months,  I  knew  that  he  was  impossible,  in  terms 
of  my  style  of  operating.   Furthermore,  he  was  constantly 
advising  me  every  time  we  had  a  problem  with  Berkeley  not 
to  fight  it  through — there's  no  way;  they'll  win  anyway; 
and  so  on.   And  I  began  to  see  this  defeatism.   These 
people  had  been  beaten  over  the  head  so  often  that  I 
wasn't  going  to  get  any  support. 

That's  when  I  began  searching  around,  and  I  met, 
one  time  in  Berkeley,  in  Dean  McHenry's  office.  Chuck 
Young.   I'm  getting  a  little  ahead  of  my  story,  but  I'll 
come  back.   I  was  very  taken  with  Chuck — his  manner,  the 
way  he  spoke.   He  was  assisting  Dean  at  that  time;  he'd 
worked  on  the  master  plan  and  so  on.   So  I  had  already 
determined  to  get  rid  of  this  fellow,  whatever  his  name 
was,  and  I  asked  Dean  about  Chuck.   And  Dean  chuckled,  I 


think;  he  didn't  know  why  I  was  asking  him.   Dean  was 
ecstatic.   He  said,  "Oh,  my  God,  I  don't  know  what  I'd 
do  without  him.   He's  first-rate.   When  you  tell  him  to 
do  something,  he  not  only  does  that,  but  two  other  things 
that  I'd  forgotten  to  tell  him,"  etc.,  etc.   I  talked 
around,  and  I  talked  to  people  at  Riverside  who  remembered 
him  and  some  people  at  UCLA  who  remembered  him  when  he 
got  his  PhD.   So  I  offered  him  a  job.   And  I  think  Chuck 
will  tell  you  he  took  it,  you  know,  bingo!  [snaps  fingers] 
like  that,  without  a  second  thought.   Let  me  stick  to  Chuck 
just  for  a  minute. 

MINK:   Assistant  to  the  chancellor. 

MURPHY:   Assistant  to  the  chancellor.   But  Chuck  is  one 
of  those  persons....   I  operate  in  a  very  delegated  fash- 
ion, basically.   No-news-is-good-news  kind  of  thing.   I 
like  to  preoccupy  myself  with  what  I  conceive  to  be  the 
big  problem  and  not  have  to  worry  about  a  lot  of  other 
things.   The  more  I  began  delegating  to  Chuck,  the  more 
I  realized  that  he  would  just  eat  it  right  up.   You  could 
just  visibly  see  him  grow  with  authority  and  responsibility. 
So  pretty  soon  I  said,  "Look,  he's  no  more  an  assistant 
to  the  chancellor.   He's  assistant  chancellor."   It  just 
went  right  that  way  until,  I  guess,  two  or  three  or  maybe 
four  years  before  I  left,  he  became  vice-chancellor  and 
so  on. 


It  was  an  amazing  experience.   I've  never  worked 
with  a  man  where  after  a  little  while  I  could  communicate 
what  I  was  interested  in  in  less  than  a  sentence — almost 
with  a  look  or  a  gesture.   He  knew  precisely  what  we  were 
talking  about.   Or  vice  versa.   It's  the  most  effective 
working  relationship  I've  ever  had  with  another  human 
being  in  any  situation. 

Anyway,  let  me  go  back.   Bill  Young  was  there.   Bill 
is  a  very  deceiving  person,  as  you  know.   He's  not  very 
articulate,  and  he's  not  a  great  orator,  and  he  seems  to 
be  sort  of  floating  around.   You  just  wonder  whether  any- 
thing '  11  get  done,  and  I  discovered  that  remarkable  things 
were  getting  done.   In  my  whole  experience  with  Bill 
through  time,  never,  before  or  again  in  the  history  of 
UCLA,  will  there  be  such  a  spate  of  building  in  a  period 
of  time  as  occurred  in  that  nine  years. 

MINK:   There  was  great  pressure  on  Young's  office  at  that 
time . 

MURPHY:   Enormous  pressure.   Because  Young's  office,  we 
had  to  program  and  to  supervise  and  everything  else,  at 
an  expenditure,  I  don't  know,  of  $150  million,  maybe,  or 
something.   We  doubled  the  size  of  the  physical  plant 
on  the  campus  in  a  nine-year  period,  including  the  medical 
school,  and  set  up  a  new  master  plan  and  master  plan 
transportation  and  roads  and  everything  else.   That  was 


a  very  exciting  period,  and  a  marvelous  team  of  Welton 
Becket  as  the  supervising  architect.  Bill  Young  as  the 
guy  that  kept  his  finger  on  where  it  was  going,  and  myself, 
who  got  involved  in  it  in  terms  of  concept  and  so  forth. 

So  I  had  the  team,  Foster,  Bill,  and  ultimately 
Chuck — Foster  on  the  academic  side;  Bill  on  the  physical 
plant  side,  which  was  very  important  at  that  time;  and 
Chuck  on  the  administrative  side,  the  mechanics  of  admin- 
istration.  Well,  you  know,  my  theory  has  always  been — 
and  every  experience  I've  had  proves  it  further — that 
good  people  make  you  look  good.   The  administrator  who 
is  afraid  to  appoint  and  even  promote  and  push  a  person 
who  potentially  is  better  than  he  is  is  a  damn  fool — 
because  first  of  all,  you  get  loyalty  on  the  part  of  those 
people;  and  secondly,  I  repeat,  they're  the  ones  that  make 
you  look  good.   And  that  team  made  me  look  good,  if  indeed 
I  looked  good. 

I  conceived  of  myself  as  a  coordinator  of  that  team. 
I  also  conceived  of  myself  as  someone  who  really  had  to 
project  the  image  of  UCLA — in  the  community,  within  the 
regents — and  to  carry  the  UCLA  message  right  directly 
head  on  to  the  Berkeley  administration.   I  also  conceived 
of  myself  as  a  person — my  office,  as  it  were,  and  I  was 
in  the  office,  so  I  was  a  person — who  somehow  had  to 
convince  the  UCLA  community  that  they  were  as  good  as  I 


knew  they  were.   They  had  so  long  been  Berkeley's  little 
brother.   And,  you  know,  sure,  Berkeley  has  nine  Nobel 
Prize  winners,  and  we'll  never  have  any  sort  of  thing; 
and  when  you  talk  about  the  University  of  California  in 
London  or  New  York  or  something,  they  say,  "Oh,  yes,  you 
mean  Berkeley."   So  I  conceived  early  on  that  this  image 
had  to  be  changed.   Now,  a  few  things  convinced  me  of  it. 
I  had  been  told  about  Kerr's  inauguration,  which  was  appar- 
ently a  very  festive  event.   He  went  to  every  campus,  and 
there  was  a  big  thing. 

MINK:   He  was  inaugurated  at  UCLA  first,  as  sort  of  a 
gesture,  we  were  told. 

MURPHY:   Well,  the  first  thing  that  happened  was  I  went 
to  work  down  there,  and  I  assumed  there  was  an  inaugura- 
tion involved.   I'd  been  inaugurated  at  Kansas;  I'd  been 
to  a  lot  of  other  guys'  inaugurations  around  the  country. 
You  know,  I  thought  one  day,  I  thought  this  was  the  res- 
ponsibility of  the  regents  and  Clark  Kerr.   And  finally 
I  was  at  a  regents'  meeting,  and  time  had  gone  by,  and  I 
said  to  Clark,  "By  the  way,  who's  in  charge  of  this  inaug- 
uration?"  He  said,  "What  inauguration?"   I  said,  "Oh, 
you  don't  inaugurate  the  chancellor?"   "Oh,"  he  said, 
"yeah.   I'd  forgotten  about  that."   So  he  called  Harry 
Wellman.   "Harry,"  he  said,  "what  do  we  do  about  inaugur- 
ating a  chancellor?"   Harry  said,  "Well,  I  don't  know." 


Nobody  had  given  it  a  thought.   Well,  I  determined,  right 

then  and  there,  there  was  going  to  be  an  inauguration. 

MINK:   This  must  have  been  around  July  of  '60,  somewhere 

in  there?   July  or  August  of  '60? 

MURPHY:   Oh,  it  was  in  August  or  September.   When  was  I 


MINK:   September  23,  1960. 

MURPHY:   Yes.   Then  this  had  to  be  in  late  July  or  early 

August.   So  Kerr  delegated  this  to  Wellman,  who  called  me 

up  and  said,  "What  do  you  want  to  do?"   And  I  said,  "Well, 

look.   The  way  I  understand  this  is  done,  you  appoint  a 

committee  down  here  of  the  faculty,  they  sit  down  with  me, 

and  we  work  something  out."   So  they  appointed  a  committee 

of  the  faculty,  who'd  had  no  experience  because  they  just 

didn't  know  about  these  things;  and  I  sort  of  tried  to 

indicate  what  I  thought  should  be  done.   And  in  the  end, 

nothing  much  was  happening,  so  I  finally  just  decided  to 

be  the  committee  and  to  tell  the  committee  what  to  do. 

So  I  called  Lee  DuBridge,  president  of  Caltech,  who  was 

an  old  friend  of  mine,  and  I  said,  "Would  you  please  speak?" 

He'd  be  delighted  to.   "Where  are  you  going  to  have  it?" 

"We're  going  to  have  it  where  we  have  the  graduation" — 

as  they  did  in  those  days — "in  Dickson  Court.   I  want  to 

have  it  at  the  time  of  a  regents'  meeting  down  here,  the 

sooner  the  better,  the  first  regents'  meeting  on  the  UCLA 


campus."   They  were  having  them  back  and  forth  in  those 
days.   "And  it  could  be  simple.  I  don't  want  a  big  thing, 
and  I  don't  want  to  invite  everybody  from  all  over  the 
country,  but  I  would  like  to  invite  the  presidents  or 
heads  of  every  California  institution  of  higher  learning." 
You  know,  it  was  too  late  by  then  to  invite  the  president 
of  Harvard  or  Princeton — indeed,  if  you  wanted  to.   In 
retrospect,  I  didn't. 

Well,  the  thing  was  finally  scheduled,  and  then  Kerr 
decided  to  get  involved — his  office.   So  they  started 
shifting  things  around  and  said  that  there  should  be  a 
lunch  after  the  thing — they  would  take  care  of  that,  and 
things  would  be  taken  care  of  in  Berkeley.   Except  they 
weren't.   So  what  happened  was,  we  had  this  inauguration 
with  a  sort  of  handful  of  people,  as  I  recall,  a  very  hot 
day.   And  the  day  before,  Kerr  had  gotten  a  cold — which 
was  communicated  as  influenza.   So  he  announced  that  he 
could  not  be  present  at  the  inauguration. 
MINK:   He  went  into  UCLA  hospital. 

MURPHY:   Yes,  that's  right.   He  went  into  the  UCLA  hospital, 
He  said  he  wanted  Harry  Wellman  to  preside.   And  I  got  this 
message  from  somebody,  and  I  called  back  and  said,  "If 
the  president  can't  preside,  then  the  chairman  of  the 
board's  going  to  preside."   And  in  fact,  I  thought  the 
chairman  of  the  board  was  going  to  preside  anyway.   I 


said,  "I  assume — and  correct  me  if  I'm  wrong — was  I 
appointed  in  the  end  by  the  Board  of  Regents  or  the  pres- 
ident?"  "Well,  it  was  the  Board  of  Regents."   "Well, 
then,"  I  said,  "I  think  the  appointing  authority  should 
preside."   Well,  Dean  McHenry  and  some  others  said,  "Look, 
don't  stand  too  much  on  ceremony."   I  said,  "I  don't  give 
a  damn  personally — but  for  the  image  of  this  institution. 
You  know,  this  is  not  a  little  two-bit  cow  college.   It 
has  to  have  the  same  dignity  applied  to  it  as  any  other." 
I  said,  "I  love  Harry  Wellman,  I  like  him,  and  this  is  not 
a  personal  matter.   This  is  a  symbolic  matter."   So  they 
agreed.   It  was  my  first  real  run-in.   Ed  Pauley  presided, 
and  he  announced  that  the  president  was  ill  and  in  the 
hospital.   Afterwards  we  went  to  a  lunch.   We  were  told 
it  was  at  the  Bel-Air  Hotel.   And  it  was  disastrous. 
MINK:   Oh,  is  that  right? 

MURPHY:   Oh,  it  was  absolutely  disastrous. 
MINK:   I  didn't  know  that. 

MURPHY:   There  were  no  place  cards;  nobody  knew  where  they 
were  to  sit.   Some  people  that  should  have  been  there  hadn't 
been  invited.   In  other  words,  it  was  the  most  disorganized, 
badly  handled  thing,  totally  different  than  anything  in 
my  administration  at  Kansas.   When  we  laid  something  on 
for  the  legislators,  we  knew  precisely  what  was  going  to 
happen  and  how  it  would  happen.   We  had  a  system.   As  a 


matter  of  fact,  Bobbie  Pauley  was  absolutely  furious. 
I  didn't  know  Bobbie  well  then.   But  she  came  to  me. 
She  said,  "Franklin,  is  this  a  university  luncheon?" 
She  was  thinking  I'd  laid  it  on.   "Can't  you  do  better 
than  this?   No  place  cards,  nobody  knows  where  to  sit," 
this  and  that.   And  I  said,  "Bobbie,  I  had  nothing  to  do 
with  it."   I  went  back  and  talked  to  Hansena  Frederickson 
afterwards.   I  said,  "Who  does  this  around  here?"   "Well," 
she  said,  "in  past  times,  I  usually  have  been  involved 
in  this,  and  Mrs.  Allen  sometimes,  but,"  she  said,  "we 
were  told  that  the  university  would  handle  this,  the 
university  administration." 
MINK:   At  Berkeley. 

MURPHY:   At  Berkeley.   "Well,"  I  said,  "that's  the  last 
time.   I  want  to  instruct  you  right  now:   I  don't  want 
you  to  communicate  with  anybody  in  Berkeley  without  let- 
ting me  know — on  any  subject."   It  was  my  second  awakening. 
"Oh,"  she  said,  "Dr.  Murphy,  I  can't  agree  to  that."   I 
said,  "Why?"   She  said,  "I'm  not  only  your  secretary,  I'm 
Clark  Kerr's  secretary."   I  said,  "Oh?"   "Oh,"  she  said, 
"yes.   President  Kerr,  when  he  came  in,  said  that  he  needed 
to  have  a  secretary  for  down  here,  and  he  deeded  to  have 
somebody  who  could  give  him  information  and  whom  he  could 
use,  and  who  could  organize  his  life  when  he  came  down — 
and  I  was  it."   Well,  I  said,  "Hansena,  I  don't  want  you  to 


create  a  problem  for  the  president,  but,"  I  said,  "do 
you  like  that  role?"   She  said,  "Dr.  Murphy,  I  hate  it." 
She  said,  "Quite  honestly,  I've  been  asked  questions 
that  I  just  don't  think  were  appropriate,  because  my 
loyalty  ought  to  be  to  the  man  I'm  working  with  day  in 
and  day  out."   I  said,  "There  isn't  any  doubt  about  that." 

So  I  called  Harry  Wellman,  and  I  said,  "Harry,  we've 
got  a  problem  here,  and  I  want  you  to  resolve  it  with 
Clark.   I  don't  want  to  get  into  another  hassle  right 
after  the  inaugural  thing."   I  said,  "Hansena  Frederickson 
cannot  have  a  relationship  with  anybody  in  Berkeley, 
least  of  all  the  president.   Now,"  I  said,  "out  of  our 
budget — I'll  find  it  somewhere--we ' 11  provide  secretarial 
assistance.   Kerr  is  down  here,  you  know,  once  every  three 
months.   He  really  doesn't  need  it.   But  I  can  guarantee 
that  the  president,  or  any  other  statewide  officer,  will 
get  whatever  secretarial  assistance  they  need  when  they 
come  down."   Well,  Harry  said,  "Well,  why  not?"   I  said, 
"Harry,  there's  a  very  basic  principle  here.   My  secretary 
is  mY_  secretary.   And  I'm  just  not  going  to  give  all  that. 
You  make  it  perfectly  clear  to  Clark."   "Well,"  he  said, 
"it's  not  a  big  thing."   I  said,  "That's  right,  it  isn't 
a  big  thing,  so  let's  get  it  resolved." 

MINK:   Oh,  yes,  but  it  was  a  big  thing.   You  see,  it  was 
something  that  it  was  good  to  have  nipped  in  the  bud. 


because  it  was  something  that  began  right  after  the  retire- 
ment of  Provost  [Ernest  Carroll]  Moore  and  continued  from 
that  time  forward,  with  [Robert  Gordon]  Sproul  here  six 
months  and  there  six  months,  a  secretary  here — all  through 
[Earle  R.  ]  Hedrick,  all  through  [Clarence  A.]  Dy]<stra,  the 
same  way.   And  she  had  always  served  in  this  capacity — which 
in  a  sense  makes  a  spy. 

MURPHY:   That  was  the  potential.   That  was  the  potential. 
MINK:   A  spy. 

MURPHY:   So  I  said,  "Harry,  look.   I  don't  want  to  create 
a  problem  with  Hansena.   I'm  delighted  to  have  her.   She's 
forgotten  more  than  I'll  ever  know  about  the  way  this  place 
is  run.   I  think  she's  discreet.   I'm  never  going  to  ask 
her  and  I  don't  think  she's  going  to  tell  me  things  about 
anybody  who  went  before.   But,"  I  said,  "it's  very  simple. 
Either  Hansena  will  be  assigned  to  Clark — we'll  give  her  a 
little  office  up  the  hall,  and  I'll  get  another  secretary — 
or  Hansena  stays  with  me  and  we'll  get  a  little  office  up 
the  hall  and  keep  it  vacant  for  a  secretary  for  Clark.   But 
it  can't  be  both."   I  said,  "I  hope  it  will  be  the  latter, 
because  Hansena  could  be  very  helpful  to  me."   Well,  he 
called  back  subsequently  and  said  okay.   But  that  bothered 
me,  you  know. 

Well,  then  the  next  thing  that  happened  was,  I  was 
so  aware  of  the  fact  in  those  days,  I'd  go  to  these  educa- 


tional  meetings  in  South  America  and  Europe  and  the  East, 
and  quite  literally  (it  wasn't  so  much  in  this  country, 
but  even  surprisingly  in  those  days  in  this  country) : 
"You're  at  UCLA.   Now,  what  relationship  does  UCLA  have 
to  the  University  of  California?"   And  I'd  try  to  explain 
this.   "Oh,  we  thought  that  was  Berkeley."   I'd  hear  that 
over  and  over  again.   University  of  California  at  Berkeley. 
So  I  got  mad  one  day.   I  picked  up  the  telephone  and  called 
in  from  somewhere,  and  the  phone  operator  said,  "University 
of  California."   And  I  said,  "Is  this  Berkeley?"   She  said, 
"No."   I  said,  "Well,  who  have  I  gotten  to?"   "UCLA." 
I  said,  "Why  didn't  you  say  UCLA?"   "Oh,"  she  said,  "we're 
instructed  to  say  University  of  California."   So  the  next 
morning  I  went  to  the  office  and  wrote  a  memo,  I  don't 
know,  to  Paul  Hannum  or  somebody;  I  said,  "Will  you  please 
instruct  the  operators  as  of  noon  today,  when  they  answer 
the  phone,  to  say,  'UCLA.'"   Well — who  was  it? — I  guess  it 
was  maybe  Foster  or  Bill  who  was  in  the  office  when  I  was 
saying  this,  and  I  guess  Hansena,  too.   And  they  said,  "You 
know,  they  won't  like  it  at  Berkeley."   And  I  said,  "Well, 
let's  just  see.   There  are  a  few  things,  maybe,  we  can  do 
around  here  without  getting  their  permission." 

Sure  enough,  about  two  months  later — and  again,  this 
was  the  way  Kerr  operated;  he  would  talk  through  Harry 
Wellman  very  often — Harry  came  around  to  me  and  he  said. 


"Franklin,  we  called  down  there  the  other  day,  and  the 
operator  said,  'UCLA.'   Is  that  new?"   I  said,  "Yes." 
"Well,"  he  said,  "it's  always  the  University  of  California, 
isn't  it?"   And  I  said,  "Harry,  the  problem  is  that  most 
people  who  call  here  want  to  talk  to  somebody  at  UCLA. 
Maybe  up  at  Berkeley  people  will  understand,  but,"  I 
said,  "most  people  who  call  in  down  here  know  whom  pre- 
cisely they're  calling.   They're  calling  at  UCLA.   It's 
a  practical  matter.   It's  like  a  road  sign."   "Well," 
he  said,  "you  know,  I  don't...."   He  said  something  about 
the  fact — somewhere  the  word  "authorization"  came  in — 
who  authorized  it?   I  said,  "Harry,  I  authorized  it.   And 
make  it  quite  clear  to  everybody  up  here  that  if  I  can't 
authorize  the  telephone  operators  to  identify  the  institu- 
tion, I  sure  as  hell  shouldn't  stay  at  UCLA  or  in  the 
University  of  California,  because  it  would  be  my  belief 
that  my  authority  is  zero."   That  put  an  end  to  that. 

Well,  you  know,  there  were  hundreds  of  these  things. 
God,  I  can't  think  of  them  all.   But  very  quickly  on,  I 
began  to  realize  this  whole  symbolism  of  control,  and  the 
subconscious — or  even  deliberate — desire  up  there  to  keep 
this  little  brother  from  getting  too  big  and  keep  it  from 
gaining  its  own  strength  and  visibility  and  self-confidence, 
is  the  way  I  guess  I'd  put  it. 
MINK:   You  certainly  couldn't  expect  to  alter  in  one  or 


two  days  what  it  took  twenty  or  thirty  years  to  build  up. 
MURPHY:   That's  right.   But  it  was  clear  to  me  that  this 
was  now  one  of  my  major,  major  problems. 
MINK:   I  had  a  question  (I  like  to  listen  to  you  talk 
rather  than  ask  you  questions) :   What  you  thought,  when 
you  went  in  there  after  you  arrived,  that  the  single 
greatest  challenge  that  you  met  was.   Maybe  it  was  this. 
But  maybe  you  didn't  know  it  until  after  you  were  here. 
MURPHY:   Oh,  I  really  didn't.   No,  I  didn't  know  it.   As 
a  matter  of  fact,  as  I  say,  I'd  made  some  assumptions  that 
turned  out  to  be  completely  faulty.   And  it  didn't  take 
me  six  months — because  living  here  now  I  was  playing  golf 
with  Phil  Davis  on  a  Saturday;  I  was  talking  to  Bill  Young; 
I  sat  down  with  Mrs.  Dickson  one  evening  and  spent  a  whole 
evening  with  her  and  out  poured  the  story  of  Ed  Dickson's 
problems,  which  was  from  a  different  point  of  view.   And  it 
didn't  take  me  long  to  begin  to  get  the  whole  history  of 
this  relationship.   Plus  the  fact  that  I  had  gone  through 
the  beginning  of  a  budget  cycle  and  saw  how  little  authority 
I  really  had.   Within  six  months,  I  began  to  realize  that  my 
single  greatest  problem — not  just  me  personally,  but  in 
order  to  advance  the  best  interests  of  this  institution — 
was  to  get  out  from  under  the  shackle  of  the  Berkeley 
administration.   Clearly. 
MINK:   I  know  you've  got  a  direction,  and  I  don't  want  to 


divert  it;  but  you  mentioned  the  first  budget  cycle,  and 
maybe  if  you  could  say  something  about  what  your  reaction 
was  to  that,  because  that  was  a  really  important  point. 
MURPHY:   Well,  in  the  first  place,  I  discovered  that  the 
administrative  apparatus  on  the  UCLA  campus  to  get  this 
budget  together  was  absolutely  rudimentary.   We  had  a 
lovely  little  guy  called  Jerry  Fleischmann  who  worked  his 
tail  off  and  was  loyal  and  dedicated  but  was  way  over  his 
head.   The  reason  that  they  had  any  budget  at  all  was  that 
they'd  get  a  formula  down  from  Berkeley.   Everything  was 
done  by  formula — so  many  FTEs,  so  many  students;  and  then 
if  you  had  the  student  FTE ,  then  you  related  that  to 
faculty,  new  faculty,  you  related  that  to  book  budgets — 
and  these  were  formulae  that  had  preexisted.   There  were 
formulae  up  there  as  to  how  many  dollars  per  square  foot 
of  building  space  you  needed  for  maintenance  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing.   So  there  was  nothing  creative  in  this  budget, 
It  was  just  reacting  to  a  formula. 

Secondly,  I  discovered  that  as  the  budget  came  down, 
there  was  practically  no  flexibility  in  moving  between-line 
items.   If  you  could  save  some  money  here,  you  couldn't 
transfer  it  to  there.   It'd  have  to  go  back  in  the  univer- 
sity pool.   There  was  no  incentive,  therefore,  for  creative 
administration . 

And  thirdly,  if  you  wanted  to  do  new  and  innovative 


things,  you  not  only  had  to  go  through  the  whole  damn 
senate  process  of  approvals  and  this  and  that — which  I 
didn't  mind  in  the  end  very  much,  because  that  was  an 
interesting  and  constructive  dialogue,  it  was  a  substan- 
tive dialogue;  even  if  there  was  disagreement,  it  was 
on  intellectual  grounds.   And  let  me  say  here  quickly, 
in  the  end  I  came  to  not  only  work  within  the  senate 
system,  I  really  came  to  enjoy  it.   And  I'm  convinced 
in  its  way,  even  though  it's  ponderous  and  even  though 
it  seems  inefficient  at  times,  it  probably  is  the  best 
system  I  know.   But  it  works  only  if  the  administrator 
working  with  the  senate  on  campus  has  the  final  authority 
and  cannot  be  second-guessed. 

Anyway,  I  discovered  that  in  terms  of  money,  budgeting 
for  it,  uses  of  it  and  so  on,  there  was  no  flexibility 
whatsoever — no  transfers,  no  nothing.   And  therefore, 
they  didn't  need  anybody  but  Jerry  and  a  couple  of  secre- 
taries.  It  was  just  a  mathematical  calculation. 

The  second  thing  I  ran  into  on  the  budget  side  was 
when  I  sought  comparative  figures.   The  thing  that  led  me 
into  the  seeking  of  comparative  figures  was  the  library 
problem.   I  had  determined — a  personal  penchant,  but  I 
think  it  valid  in  any  event — that  distinction  of  a  univer- 
sity, both  symbolically  as  well  as  in  terms  of  tools,  is 
related  to  the  library.   I  had  been  talking  to  Larry  [Powell] 


about  this,  and  Larry  finally  began  to  level  with  me  about 
some  of  the  problems  that  he'd  been  having.   And  I  said, 
"Well,  what  does  Berkeley  get  in  these  matters?"   Well, 
he  said  he'd  been  trying  to  find  out  for  years,  but  he 
could  never  get  the  facts,  but  he  said  it  was  a  hell  of 
a  lot  more  than  we  were.   So  I  made  an  innocent  inquiry. 
I  said,  "By  the  way,"  to  Harry  Wellman  one  day — and  this 
was  all  in  the  first  year — I  said,  "I'd  just  like  to  know 
whether  in  terms  of  library  support,  book  budgets,  all 
the  rest  of  it,  the  formula  treats  Berkeley  and  UCLA  the 
same."   He  gave  me  a  very  evasive  answer.   And  then  I 
started  talking  to  the  budget  people  at  Berkeley,  and  I 
was  told  plainly  that  this  was  none  of  my  business.   And 
I  began  to  get  suspicious  then,  needless  to  say. 

Finally,  I  concluded  that  the  Berkeley  people  were 
already  beginning  to  get  a  little  leery  of  me,  that  they 
were  beginning  to  sense  that  they  had  gotten  a  fox  into 
the  chicken  pen.   I  also  began  to  realize  that  I  would 
never  get  anywhere  in  getting  equity,  in  getting  authority, 
without  working  directly  with  the  regents,  because  I  was 
convinced  that  the  regents  would  never  be  told.   There  would 
never  be  a  transference  of  my  concerns,  and  I  was  convinced 
that  the  regents — just  in  terms  of  reality — would  never 
know  the  right  questions  to  ask.   Now,  I  knew  this  was 
a  dangerous  game  to  play;  and  in  retrospect,  it  was  a 


disloyal  game,  because  I  do  believe  in  a  system — I  believe 
in  channels.   And  I  can  tell  you  I  believe  it's  true.   I 
can  swear  to  you  today  that  I  would  never  have  gone  the 
regents  route  had  Kerr  and  Wellman  been  full  and  open  with 
me.   I  would  have  been  reasonable.   I  would  have  pressed, 
of  course.   But  I  would  have  believed  that  there  was  full 
disclosure  and  that  I  could  enter  into  the  lists  without 
my  legs  tied  together.   I  didn't  want  any  disadvantage. 
I  never,  in  the  height  of  the  heat  of  all  this  thing, 
I  never  said  I  wanted  something  at  the  expense  of  Berkeley. 
I  always  said  that  Berkeley  was  a  jewel  in  the  crown  of 
the  University  of  California  and  that  the  university  and 
the  regents  should  support  it  with  great  vigor;  and  Roger 
Heyns  can  testify  to  that,  in  terms  of  the  things  I  did 
for  him  in  the  end. 

Let  me  tell  you  a  story.   This  was  again  in  the  first 
year.   Paul  Dodd  had  come  to  me;  he'd  gotten  the  word  he 
wasn't  going  to  be  vice-chancellor.   Paul  knew,  really, 
why.   But  Paul  was  this  kind  of  a  guy — he  said,  "Franklin, 
you  know,  I've  had  a  lot  of  responsibility  in  building 
these  institutes  and  building  some  distinction  here,  there, 
and  elsewhere,  and  one  of  the  things  we're  under  way  on  is 
to  build  up  the  Slavic  languages  thing.   We  have  the  oppor- 
tunity of  hiring" — I  forget  his  name — a  Slavic  name. 
Professor  So-and-so,  who  is  retiring  early  from  Harvard. 


And  he'll  come  for  five  years.   We'll  have  to  pay  him  a 
little  over  scale  to  get  him. "   But  he  was  one  of  the 
giants  in  the  field.   He  said,  "The  importance  is  that 
even  in  those  five  years,  he  will  attract  good  young  people; 
we'll  be  able  to  recruit  at  the  assistant  professor  level 
and  so  on  and  get  the  building  of  a  department."   I  said, 
"Paul,  it  sounds  good  enough  to  me."   It  had  all  been 
approved  by  the  budget  committee  unanimously  and  all  the 
rest  of  it,  so  I  forwarded  this  to  Kerr.   And  I  got  back-- 
in  those  days  it  was  just  a  verbal  communication — a  pro- 
posal denied.   So  I  called  Kerr  on  the  phone,  "What  are 
you  denying  for?   We've  got  the  money  in  the  budget." 
"Well,"  he  said,  "look.   We're  going  to  concentrate  on 
Africa  and  the  Middle  Eastern  things  at  UCLA,  and  I  don't 
think  you  can  go  in  all  these  directions  at  the  same  time." 
Well,  I  said  this  had  been  completely  evaluated,  and  I 
went  through  the  whole  thing — I  won't  go  into  detail. 
He  said,  "Well,  I'm  sorry.   This  is  not  one  I'm  willing 
to  take  on  to  the  regents." 

To  my  astonishment,  I  learned — and  this  is  no  hearsay, 
I  learned  it  from  the  horse's  mouth  three  years  later — that 
at  the  time  that  proposal  had  gone  to  Berkeley,  Kerr  had 
called  the  chairman  of  the  Slavic  language  department  at 
Berkeley  and  said,  "By  the  way,  do  you  know  Professor  So-and- 
so  at  Harvard  is  available?"   And  of  course,  Kerr  knew 


precisely;  he'd  seen  in  the  papers  that  went  up  the  real 
distinction  of  this  fellow. 

Well,  these  things  gradually  accumulated.   Now,  in 
the  meantime,  I  had  gotten  the  whole  history  of  this  insti- 
tution and  its  struggles  against  Berkeley. 


TAPE  NUMBER:   II,  Side  1 
OCTOBER  18,  1973 

MURPHY:   In  the  meantime,  I  had  been  meeting  and  talking 

on  social  grounds  with  regents  and  alumni  leaders,  because 

I  must  say  that  some  of  the  regents  and  many  of  the  aliamni 

leaders  went  all  out  to  bring  me  into  this  community. 

Ed  Carter  and  Ed  Pauley,  John  Canaday  and  Bill  Forbes, 

you  know,  just  leaned  over  backwards  to  get  me  involved 

in  this,  that,  and  the  other  thing.   Tom  Davis,  Phil  Davis, 

John  Vaughn — all  of  them.   Well,  in  the  process  of  playing 

golf  or  going  to  dinner  or  whatever,  they  were  anxious  to 

tell  me  about  the  background.   It  always  came  out,  especially 

from  the  alumni,  nonregents,  the  problems  they'd  had  over 

time.   This  is  where  I  began  to  learn  about  the  intense 

struggles,  starting  with  Ed  Dickson,  in  this  university 

becoming  anything.   Now,  that's  all  been  written  up. 

MINK:   In  a  way,  it's  been  written  up.   Well,  a  lot  of 

it's  been  recorded.   Not  too  much  of  it  has  been  actually 


MURPHY:   Well,  I  suppose. 

MINK:   UCLA  on  the  Move,  as  we  know — referring  to  that 

semicentennial  history  of  the  university — is  pretty  much 

of  a  gloss-over  of  what's  actually  happened.   I  was  going 

to  ask  you,  one  of  the  stories  that  Phil  Davis  told  me — 


and  this  would  be  second-hand  if  you  heard  it — was  con- 
cerning the  struggle  over  the  appointment  of  Provost  Dykstra, 
Did  he  talk  to  you  about  that  at  all? 

MURPHY:   Yes,  and  I'll  tell  you  who  can  give  you  even  more 
on  that — John  Canaday.   Have  you  done  his? 
MINK:   Not  yet,  no. 

MURPHY:   Well,  most  of  the  stuff  I  got  from  Phil  was  about 
actions  in  the  legislature,  especially  the  establishment 
of  the  medical  school,  the  law  school,  and  the  engineering 
school.   I'll  come  to  that.   The  story  I  hear  from  Canaday 
--because  he  was  then  executive  director  of  the  Alumni 
Association — and  as  I  remember  it  (it's  been  a  long  time), 
the  dimensions  were  roughly  this.   They  had  determined — the 
alumni — that  they  had  to  have  some  kind  of  a  visible  and 
strong  chancellor.   And  Sproul  had  come  up  with  some  names 
that  everybody  knew  would  be  his  puppets.   Dykstra  had 
this  track  record.   He'd  been  at  UCLA.   A  lot  of  the  details 
of  this  story  I've  forgotten,  but  John  tells  me  that  they 
went  to  Sproul.   They'd  gone  to  Dykstra,  and  Dykstra  said, 
yes,  he'd  be  interested  in  coming.   No,  I  think  it  was 
the  other  way.   They  went  to  Sproul  and  said  they  wanted 
him  to  look  at  Dykstra.   And  he  said,  oh,  yes,  he  would 
do  that.   He  came  back  and  said,  "I've  talked  to  Dykstra, 
and  he  has  no  interest  whatsoever."   Then,  Canaday  said, 
either  accidentally  or  deliberately,  some  of  this  same 


UCLA  group  ran  into  Dykstra,  talked  with  him,  and  he  said, 
"Yeah,  I ' d  be  interested  in  coming."   "Well,  have  you  talked 
to  Sproul  about  this?"   "No,  Sproul  has  never  discussed 
this  with  me. " 

So  they  went  back  and  confronted  Sproul  with  his  lie. 
I  don't  know  any  other  word  for  it.   His  misinformation. 
And  Sproul  said,  "There  must  be  some  kind  of  a  misunder- 
standing," and  so  forth,  but  obviously  he  was  in  a  corner 
on  this  thing.   "Well,  if  Mr.  Dykstra  is  interested  in 
coming,  well,  certainly,  we  ought  to  nail  this  down  right 
now,"  you  know.   You  know  how  Sproul  was:   he  could  turn 
it  around  very  quickly.   And  Dykstra  came.   However,  Dykstra 
didn't  agree  to  come  until  he'd  gotten — according  to  John 
Canaday  and  also  according  to  Hansena — Dykstra  had  gotten, 
he  thought,  firm  commitments  from  Sproul.   And  practically 
every  one  of  them  turned  out  to  be  nonexistent.   And  my 
impression  is  that  to  a  large  extent  Dykstra  died  of  a 
broken  heart,  literally  and  figuratively.   But  again,  the 
one  living  man  that  was  in  the  center  of  that  that  I  know 
well  is  John  Canaday,  and  he  can  give  it  out,  chapter  and 

Now,  on  the  Phil  Davis  side,  there  was  also  a 
Reverend  [Jesse  R.]  Kellems  here,  who  had  been  in  the 
legislature,  who'd  also  worked  for  the  university.   Also 
Ernie  Debs,  the  current  supervisor,  was  in  the  legislature 


at  that  time.   But  Phil,  I  think,  is  the  one  I  got  it  best 
from.   And  Phil  made  it  clear  to  me  that  the  professional 
schools  at  UCLA  in  every  case  had  to  be  rammed  down  the 
throat  of  the  statewide  administration. 

Kellems  is  the  one  that  carried  the  engineering  school. 
He  explained  to  me  how  they  were  trying  to  kill  it  in  the 
legislature.   And  of  course,  the  man  that  Sproul  used  to 
do  this  was  Jim  Corley,  who  was  his  legislative  operator. 
Corley's  influence,  of  course,  was  in  the  senate.   They 
were  there  longer,  and  he  was  shrewd  enough  to  get  the 
senate  with  him.   He  didn't  have  nearly  as  much  control 
over  the  house,  because  they  were  more  in  and  out  and  there's 
more  of  them.   I  remember  Kellems  telling  me  how  he  just 
told  Corley  that  he  would  see  to  it  that  over  time  the  uni- 
versity would  really  get  a  beating  unless  this  engineering 
school  were  established.   He  had  to  threaten.   The  same  was 
true  of  the  law  school.   There  were  two  or  three  alumni 
and,  ultimately,  regents  who  in  effect  just  forced  this  down 

the  throat. 

But  the  one  I  remember  best  was  the  medical  school, 
because  the  decision  had  been  made  down  here  that  they 
wanted  a  medical  school,  that  people  in  Southern  California 
felt  they  should  have  a  medical  school,  etc.   But  now  you 
had  not  only  the  statewide  administration  and  the  Berkeley 
crowd  basically  fighting,  but  you  had  the  San  Francisco 


people  fighting,  because  they  had  a  monopoly  on  this. 
And  they  were  powerful,  because  they  were  doctors  of 
regents  and  doctors  of_  legislators.   So  Phil  Davis  said 
he  went  to  the  legislature  because  Ed  Dickson  urged  him 
to.   UCLA  needed  somebody.   And  this  was  Phil's  basic 
job  every  year--to  help  UCLA.   So  the  medical  school  was 
his  baby,  and  it  was  finally  gotten  through  the  assembly 
Ways  and  Means  Committee,  was  approved  by  the  assembly — 
the  appropriation  for  the  medical  school.   The  regents, 
curiously,  had  not  approved  it  at  all.   So  Sproul ' s  first 
gambit  was  to  tell  the  regents  that  they  had  to  fight 
this  because  the  legislature  was  taking  educational  policy 
out  of  their  hands.   Well,  the  facts  are  that  a  number  of 
requests  had  been  made  to  the  regents  and  to  Sproul  to 
support  a  medical  school  in  the  proper  way,  and  they  had 
blocked  it.   This  was  the  only  way  around  it.   So  Corley 
went  to  work,  and  the  bill  was  stalled  in  the  senate. 

In  the  meantime,  the  senate  had  passed  the  appro- 
priation measure  for  the  whole  university.   It  was  now 
over  in  the  assembly  for  passage.   So  Phil  Davis  told  me 
that  he  called  Corley  up  one  day,  and  he  said,  "I  want 
you  to  tell  Sproul  something.   I  want  you  to  tell  Sproul 
that  as  long  as  the  university  blocks  that  bill  for  the 
medical  school  in  the  senate,  the  university's  appropria- 
tion bill  isn't  going  to  get  out  of  the  assembly.   And  it's 


that  simple.   And  also" — you  remember  Phil;  he  was  tough — 
"I  want  you  to  tell  him  that  I'm  just  as  patient  as  he  is. 
Most  of  all,  tell  him  that  he  needs  the  money  more  than  I 
do."   Corley  said,  "Oh,  you  can't  do  that;  you'd  be  cru- 
cified," this,  that,  and  the  other  thing,  threatened  him. 
And  Phil  said,  "I'm  just  telling  you.   You  tell  him  that." 

So  it  went  down  to  the  wire;  it  really  did.   And  that 
bill  was  just  stalled  right  in  the  assembly  committee. 
And  finally  Sproul  related  this  to  the  regents.   He  said, 
"You  know,  we  have  no  alternative."   And  they  agreed. 
So  the  medical  school  bill  came  out,  over,  nearly,  Sproul ' s 
dead  body.   And  you  can  imagine  how  I  felt  when  I  picked 
up  this  history  of  UCLA  and  saw  the  groundbreaking  with 
Bob  Sproul  there  digging  the  thing,  with  Governor  [Earl] 
Warren,  and  saying,  you  know,  "one  of  the  great  days  in  the 
history  of  the  University  of  California." 

Well,  these  bits  of  hypocrisy  began  building  and 
building  and  building.   Then  my  suspicion  began  building 
when  they  wouldn't  give  me  comparative  data  on  FTE ,  book 
budgets,  or  anything  else.   So  as  I  said  earlier,  I  finally 
concluded  that  either  I  ought  to  get  out  of  this  job  or 
win  this  battle.   And  since  I  had  no  troops  except  the 
regents,  I  had  to  get  it  done  through  the  regents.   It 
was  very  tough  to  me  to  come  to  this  decision,  I  repeat, 
because  clearly  it  was  an  act  of  disloyalty.   I  was  getting 


out  of  channels.   I  repeat,  my  rationalization  was  that 
there  was  no  other  way  to  do  it. 

MINK:   One  thing  you  pointed  out  earlier  was  that  you  had 
talked  to  Kerr  at  least  on  one  point.   You  said,  "Well, 
is  it  okay  to  talk  to  the  regents?"   He  said,  "Sure." 
MURPHY:   Yes.   On  that  one  point.   Well,  what  happened 
was,  I  began  briefing  the  regents.   Now,  I  must  say,  this 
came  very  normally,  because,  as  I  told  you  earlier,  Pauley 
and  Carter  and  Canaday  and  Buff  Chandler  had  become  my 
social  friends  as  well.   We  became  good  friends;  we  were 
socializing  together.   So  I  would  use  those  occasions 
and  other  occasions  to  tell  these  fellows  how  bad  I  thought 
the  situation  was  and  in  fact  they  didn't  know  how  bad  it 
was.   And  I  began  generating  questions  that  I  thought 
they  should  ask.   And  I  began  explaining  that  this  was 
really,  in  my  view,  the  last  good  chance  for  UCLA  to  really 
make  the  move  to  distinction,  because — and  this  was  an 
egocentric  thing  to  say — that  if  I  with  my  experience 
and  my  kind  of  Irish  temperament  got  licked  in  this,  I 
didn't  think  they'd  ever  find  anybody  that  could  win  that 

I  must  say,  the  regents,  even  the  UCLA  regents,  in 
my  experience,  have  never  wanted  to  see  anything  except 
the  whole  university  improved.   They  have  not  been  parochial, 
But  they  have  been  damn  firm,  in  my  experience,  that  UCLA 


deserved  its  fair  share.  So  this  was  not  a  destructive 
thing;  this  was  a  positive  thing — at  least,  the  way  I'm 
interpreting  it. 

Well,  we  started  out.   I  remember  one  episode  which 
was  a  humorous  one,  because  it  went  too  far.   It  was  early 
in  the  days  of  dormitory  building.   We  had  Dykstra  Hall 
and  we  had  Sproul  Hall — and  my  God,  again,  given  all  the 
loyalties  of  people  who  worked  their  tail  off  down  here, 
to  have  that  thing  named  after  Bob  Sproul,  who  did  every- 
thing he  could  to  keep  this  place  back,  is  a  miscarriage 
of  justice,  too.   But  that's  another  question.   There  was 
a  discussion  at  the  buildings  and  ground  meeting  of  the 
regents  one  day,  and  the  regents  were  going  to  put  in  an 
application  for  two  dormitories  at  Berkeley,  two  additional 
dormitories.   Now,  the  facts  are  that  we  already  had  one 
more  than  they  (this  was  early  in  the  dormitory  building) . 
The  statewide  administration  recommended  an  application 
to  Washington  for  two  dorms  at  Berkeley  and  one  at  UCLA. 
And  frankly,  that's  all  we  wanted  at  that  time.   To  my 
amazement.  Carter  spoke  up  and  said,  "I  won't  support 
this  unless  there  are  two  at  UCLA  and  two  at  Berkeley" — 
when  we  hadn't  even  wanted  two.   By  God,  it  sailed  right 
through.   And  that's  how  we  got  the  two  up  there,  in 
addition,  rather  than  the  one.   This  is  merely  symbolic 
of  the  fact  that  these  people  were  beginning  to  speak  up 


and  say,  "Look,  equal  treatment." 

Well,  I  decided  that  symbolically  and  in  every  other 
way,  the  way  to  really  bring  this  issue  to  a  head  was 
the  library,  because  in  a  disproportionate  way  the  library 
means  a  lot  to  faculty — in  its  symbolism  and  everything. 
So  I  began  on  this  library.   I  began  saying  I  thought  we 
were  being  terribly  shortchanged.   I  pulled  out  of  the 
regents'  minutes  a  statement  that  had  been  made  and  approved 
by  the  regents,  a  policy,  that  UCLA  and  Berkeley  would 
be  the  two  major  campuses  in  the  state,  north  and  south. 
And  I  said  the  implication  here  is  crystal  clear.   They 
deserve  equal  treatment  if  they're  going  to  be  the  two 
great  campuses.   (This  is  before  they'd  gotten  into  this 
new-campus  stuff.)   I  went  to  them,  and  I  said,  "You  know, 
the  statewide  administration  is  not  following  this  policy 
of  the  regents.   They're  ignoring  it."   "Well,  what  do  you 
mean?"   I  said,  "In  two  areas,  they're  ignoring  it.   Area 
one,  the  library.   I  can't  tell  you  how  badly,  but  there 
is  an  enormous  disproportion  in  acquisition  funds."   I 
then  explained  the  nuances  of  the  fact  that  of  the  exchange 
of  the  University  Press,  all  the  books  went  to  Berkeley. 
In  those  days,  they  did.   And  that  was  a  free  thing. 
Exchange  of  journals — all  went  to  Berkeley.   Therefore 
they  had  those  funds — I  mean,  they  didn't  have  to  buy  those 
things  that  we  had  to  out  of  our  funds.   But  in  addition 


to  that,  in  absolute  numbers,  compared  to  any  FTE  rela- 
tionship at  all.   I  said,  "Also,  there  is  the  faculty 
disproportion.   There  are  many  more  over-scale  professors; 
there  are  many  more  higher-category  people;  and  furthermore, 
these  are  my  guesses,  but  if  you  ask  the  questions — I 
can't  get  the  information--you ' 11  find  out  that  the  faculty- 
student  ratio  at  Berkeley  is  substantially  smaller  than  it 
is  at  UCLA."   Well,  these  fellows,  by  one  means  or  another, 
started  boring  in  and  asking  questions;  and  they  were  able 
to  get  information  that,  of  course,  I  couldn't.   And  sure 
enough,  all  of  these  suspicions  were  manifest. 
MINK:   About  when  was  this? 

MURPHY:   This  was  about  two  or  three  years  after  I'd  been 
here.   I  had  to  get  my  feet  on  the  ground. 
MINK:   I  mean,  a  lot  of  this  that  you  could  feed  to  them, 
RV  [Robert  Vosper]  was  feeding  to  you,  though,  right? 
MURPHY:   Oh,  yes.   Bob  was  getting  what  information  he 
could.   But  here  again,  in  those  days,  you  couldn't  get 
the  figures.   Now,  we  did  know,  we  finally  got  the  figures, 
on  how  many  books  they  were  bringing  in  each  year.   And 
God,  you  know,  that  was  way  above  us.   So  finally,  I  decided 
to  make  the  first  fight  on  the  library.   I  knew  I  had  to 
make  the  second  fight  on  the  faculty-student  ratio  and  the 
third  fight  on  building  funds.   To  me ,  I  had  to  make  the 
symbol.   So  this  matter  finally  came  up — and  I  won't  go 


into  a  whole  lot  of  detail.   But  the  regents  finally,  on 
a  motion  of  Canaday  or  Forbes  or  somebody,  passed  a  motion 
that  there  would  be  created  two  major  research  libraries 
for  the  University  of  California — one  north  and  one  south, 
one  at  Berkeley  and  one  at  UCLA — and  that  these  libraries 
would  grow  to  x  millions  of  volumes  this  year  and  y  millions 
of  volumes  the  following  year. 

About  that  time,  at  a  meeting  of  the  chancellors  prior 
to  the  regents'  meeting,  Kerr  said,  "I  have  a  matter  I  want 
to  bring  up.   We've  got  bad  administration  going  here. 
We've  got  chancellors  going  directly  to  regents;  we've 
got  regents  bringing  up  materials  that  have  not  been  pro- 
cessed by  the  statewide  administration;  so  I  am  now  estab- 
lishing a  rule  that  no  chancellor  may  speak  to  a  regent 
without  my  permission."   He  said,  "Furthermore,  now  that 
we're  into  this,  I  understand  that  some  of  our  chancellors 
have  been  communicating  with  other  university  presidents 
in  California.   This  is  a  very  sensitive  matter;  we've  got 
a  master  plan" — and  this,  that,  and  the  other  thing — "so  I 
want  to  establish  another  policy:   that  no  chancellor  may 
speak  to  the  president  of  another  university  without  my 
approval."   [tape  recorder  turned  off] 

I  spoke  up,  and  I  said,  "Well,  let  me  get  this  defined. 
As  you  know,  Clark,  Ed  Pauley's  become  a  close  personal 
friend  of  mine,  Ed  Carter,  John  Canaday,  Bill  Forbes,  Buff 


Chandler" — several  others  who  were  on  the  board  at  that  time. 
"Are  you  saying  that  I  can  no  longer  associate  with  them 
socially?"   "Oh,  no,"  he  said.   "I  just  mean  about  university 
business."   "Well,"  I  said,  "are  you  saying  that  if  they 
ask  me  about  this  or  that  or  the  other  thing  at  UCLA,  I'm 
to  say,  'I'm  sorry,  you'll  have  to  talk  to  Clark  Kerr'?" 
He  said,  "Yes."   "Well,"  I  said,  "I'd  better  just  tell  you 
right  now  that  I'll  not  abide  by  this  policy."   I  said, 
"Furthermore,  are  you  saying  that  when  Norman  Topping  calls 
me  up  and  says,  'Franklin,  we  have  a  problem  with  the  board 
of  county  supervisors  about  the  funding  of  our  medical 
schools  and  the  two  county  hospitals,'  that  I'm  to  say, 
'I'm  sorry,  Norman,  I  can't  talk  with  you;  you  must  call 
Berkeley,'  or  'I  must  call  Berkeley  and  get  permission'? 
Are  you  saying  that  when  Lee  DuBridge  calls  me  and  says, 
'Franklin,  there's  a  possibility  that  we  can  make  a  joint 
application  for  a  nuclear  reactor  or  something  with  the 
National  Science  Foundation  for  joint  operation  in  Southern 
California, '  I  must  say  no — not  even  explore  the  possibility?" 
"Well,"  he  said,  "I  think  these  are  matters  that  need  to  be 
taken  up  with  the  president's  office."   I  said,  "Clark," 
and  very  low-key,  I  said,  "if  that's  to  be  the  policy, 
I'll  have  to  tell  you  in  advance  I  can't  abide  by  it." 
I  said,  "Frankly,  the  reason  I  can't  is  that  I'm  500  miles 
away  from  the  statewide  office.   You  may  not  think  so. 


statewide  administration  may  not  think  so,  but  everybody 
in  Southern  California  thinks  I'm  administering  UCLA. 
Now,  am  I  or  am  I  not?   And  do  you  want  me  to  destroy  that 
image?   Do  you  merely  want  me  to  say  that  I'm  a  housekeeper?" 
"Well,"  he  said,  "I  think  we've  got  other  matters  to  discuss 
at  this  meeting.   Perhaps  we  can  discuss  this  privately. 
Maybe  the  thing  to  do  is  for  you  fellows  to  think  about 
these  proposals,  and  I'll  come  back  next  month  and  we'll 
discuss  it  subsequently,"   It  was  never  further  discussed. 

So  afterwards,  two  or  three  of  the  chancellors, 
Emil  Mrak  especially,  came  around  and  said,  "God,  that 
would  have  been  disastrous."   He  said,  "You  know,  the 
regents  on  the  board  that  are  interested  in  agriculture, 
they're  constantly  talking  to  me  about  it.   I  could  no 
more  have  lived  with  that...."   "Well,"  I  said,  "why 
didn't  you  speak  up?"   He  said,  "You  know,  we're  not 
accustomed  to  it."   I  said,  "Let's  all  get  accustomed 
to  it." 

About  three  weeks  after  that.  Dean  McHenry  called 
me.   That  was  while  he  was  still  working  for  Kerr  and 
before  Santa  Cruz  had  been  established.   He  said,  "Franklin, 
I  want  to  talk  to  you  at  the  next  meeting  of  the  regents." 
So  we  went  out  in  his  car  and  he  drove  me  around,  and  he 
said,  "You  know,  I  don't  think  you  understand  the  way  this 
thing  works.   You  should  know  that  people  up  here  at  Berkeley 


are  getting  very  disturbed  about  your  method  of  operation." 
Well,  I  said,  "Why?"   "Well,  you're  not  a  team  player." 
And  I  said,  "Dean,  you  know,  that's  the  truest  thing  you've 
said  to  me  since  I've  come  to  California.   How  can  you  play 
on  a  team  when  you  have  no  notion  of  the  goals  the  team  is 
supposed  to  achieve  and  you're  not  really  a  member  of  the 
team?   Now,"  I  said,  "maybe  the  thing  for  me  to  do  is  to 
leave  UCLA."   [tape  recorder  turned  off]   He  was  speaking 
for  Clark.   I  said,  "I've  decided  I'm  not  going  to  leave 
until  the  regents  ask  me  to.   I've  never  been  fired  in  my 
life,  and  maybe  that's  an  experience  I  ought  to  have  to 
round  out  my  total  experience.   But,"  I  said,  "I'll  tell 
you:   until  I'm  fired,  I'm  going  to  have  but  one  objective-- 
and  now  you  carry  this  word  back  to  whomever  you're  speaking 
for — and  that  is  to  strengthen  UCLA  within  the  framework 
of  the  regents'  resolution,"  which  I  referred  him  to, 
"'to  strenghthen  the  authority  and  responsibility  of  the 
chancellor  in  the  system,  wherever  he  might  be,'  and 
finally,  in  so  doing,  believe  that  I'm  strengthening  the 
entire  University  of  California.   Because  the  University 
of  California  can  be  no  stronger  than  its  weakest  part, 
and  we  chancellors  can't  run  complicated  campuses  in  these 
complicated  days.   Now,  if  I  fail  in  this,  or  if  I  become 
too  disruptive,  I  suspect  the  regents  will  ask  me  to 
leave.   But  until  that  time,  I'm  going  to  proceed  just  the 


way  I've  been  proceeding.   Now  frankly,  as  you  know, 
Dean,"  I  said,  "my  problem  is  that  rarely  can  I  talk  to 
the  president.   He's  either  in  Hong  Kong,  or  presiding 
over  a  conference  in  London,  or  [is]  a  consultant  in 
Washington,  or  he's  consulting  with  his  regents.   He 
increasingly  has  no  time  to  talk  about  direction,  policy, 
or  philosophy;  and  what  time  he  has  got,  he  is  now  totally 
devoting  to  the  new  campuses.   So,"  I  said,  "I'm  going  to 
continue  to  operate  the  way  I'm  operating  until  the  regents 
tell  me  not  to. " 

I  promptly  went  back — and  I  didn't  think  it  was  a 
dishonest  matter — and  I  said  to  Carter  and  Pauley  and 
Canaday  and  so  on,  I  said,  "Listen,  you  know,  I'm  getting 
into  difficulty,  and  I  want  you  to  know  that  I  never  want 
to  be  president  of  this  university.   I  don't  want  Kerr's 
job  under  any  circiimstances ,  because  if  I'm  going  to  stay 
in  education,  I  want  to  be  on  a  campus.   If  I  go  into 
administering  an  empire,  I'll  go  into  business  or  govern- 
ment or  something.   The  greatest  satisfaction  I've  had  is 
being  on  a  campus.   So  if  I  have  confrontations  with  Kerr, 
you'll  have  to  understand  this,  because  I'm  really  trying 
to  do  this  job  for  UCLA  that  you  people  told  me  you  wanted 
done."   And  I  said,  "I  had  a  confrontation  the  other  day 
in  which  he  advised  me  that  I  was  not  to  speak  to  any  of 
you  on  matters  relating  to  the  university.   And  I  simply 


told  him  I  wouldn't  abide  by  it." 

Well,  that  infuriated  the  regents,  because  I'd  never — 
indeed,  at  the  very  end  I  tried  to  save  Kerr's  job;  I'll 
get  to  that--I  never  once  in  my  years  at  UCLA  tried  to  get 
at  Kerr.   If  it  seemed  like  I  might  have  from  time  to  time, 
it  was  only  because  of  trying  to  get  Kerr  to  stop  from 
cutting  our  library  budget  or  prevent  it  from  becoming 
equal,  but  there  was  never  a  personal  thing  in  this. 

In  the  meantime,  my  wife  was  beginning  to  have  prob- 
lems.  Kay  Kerr  decided  that  she  needed  to  be  to  the  wives 
of  the  chancellors  what  Clark  was  to  their  husbands.   So 
she  would  start  calling  meetings  of  wives  of  chancellors. 
And  she  would  say,  "Now,  I  think  you  should  do  this.   This 
is  what  we  do  at  Berkeley.   This  is  what  we  do  with  foreign 
students.   This  is  what  we  do  with  faculty  receptions.   I 
think  we  should  have  a  manual  of  the  way  the  chancellor's 
wife  deals  with  this,  that,  and  the  other  thing."   You  know, 
here  she's  talking  to  my  wife,  who'd  done  this  for  twelve 

MINK:   It's  really  very  hard  to  believe,  you  know. 
MURPHY:   Well,  it's  an  absolutely  true  thing. 
MINK:   I'm  certain  it's  true.   I'm  sure  it  is,  but  it's 
certainly  hard  to  believe. 

MURPHY:   Judy  would  come  home  and  say,  "God  almighty,  what 
am  I  to  do?"   I'd  say,  "Just  ignore  it.   Just  do  what  you  do 


and  do  superbly  well.   Pay  no  attention  whatsoever." 
She  said,  "Do  I  have  to  go  to  these  meetings?"   I  said, 
"Well,  yes.   You  know.   Go  and  sit  and  listen.   Don't 
argue.   And  just  bite  your  tongue  and  come  back  and  do  what 
we  would  do  in  any  event.   Pay  no  attention." 

However,  about  that  time — again,  I  can't  give  you 
dates,  but  they  can  be  tied  to  experience — Sam  Gould  was 
chancellor  at  Santa  Barbara.   He  was  married  to  a  Danish 
woman,  I  think,  who  spoke  with  an  accent — a  charming  woman, 
a  lovely  woman.   Sam  was  having  some  problems  up  there 
because  there  were  cliques  on  that  campus  in  terms  of  the 
previous  chancellor  and  Sam.   You  remember  that  previous 
chancellor  had  gotten  into  that  trouble  in  New  York  and  so 
on.   So  this  clique  problem  ran  down  into  the  faculty 
wives.   Sam's  wife  was  trying  to  heal  this  and  doing  things 
with  wives — parties  and  so  on.   Well,  one  of  the  people 
that  didn't  like  Sam's  wife  or  something  got  to  Kay  Kerr, 
who  instead  of  doing  the  thing  you  would  normally  do — "I'm 
sorry,  I  don't  want  to  hear  about  it,  that's  Mrs.  Gould's 
responsibility" — listened  very  carefully;  and  then  the 
next  time  they  were  down  here,  she  got  in  touch  with  Gould's 
wife  and  just  gave  her  hell.   "You  shouldn't  be  doing  that 
sort  of  thing;  you're  running  with  the  wrong  crowd" — this, 
that,  and  the  other  thing,  all  in  terms  of  internal  campus 
politics  and  cliques.   Sam  called  me  up,  and  he  was  beside 


himself.   (Sam  and  I  were  very  close.)   He  said  that  his 
wife  had  told  him  that,  by  God,  he  was  going  to  leave. 
They  weren't  going  to  stay  there  one  more  minute.   She 
would  not  put  up  with  this;  it  was  humiliating  and  insul- 

Well,  this  little  thing  went  over.   But  a  year  or 
two  later--Kay  Kerr  continued  to  run  these  so-called 
"seminars"  for  the  behavior  of  chancellors'  wives  and  the 
management  of  chancellors'  wives'  lives — the  State  Univer- 
sity of  New  York  was  looking  for  somebody  to  run  it. 
(They  asked  me,  incidentally.   They  were  asking  a  lot  of 
people  to  come  back  and  look  at  the  job.)   Sam  went  back 
and  looked  at  it.   It  wasn't  that  good  a  job.   In  fact, 
it  was  a  bitter  experience  for  Sam;  as  you  know,  he  sub- 
sequently left  it.   He  said,  "You  know,  I'm  going  to  take 
it,  Franklin,  for  one  reason  and  one  reason  only:   My  wife 
wants  to  get  out  of  California.   She  cannot  take  this  kind 
of  thing."   It's  the  first  time  I've  ever  told  that  story. 

So  we  had  this  going  all  the  time.   It  was  much  more 
severe  in  the  early  days.   Finally,  at  least  as  far  as  we 
were  concerned,  it  kind  of  disappeared,  except  for  a  few 
instances  that  we'll  get  to  subsequently,  because  Kay 
Kerr  finally  understood  that  Judy  and  I  were  paying  no 
attention  whatsoever.   Judy  finally  just  stopped  going  to 
the  meetings.   She  simply  always  had  an  engagement  or  sone- 


thing.   She'd  go  to  every  third  one  or  something.   They 
died  a  natural  death.   But  it  just,  again,  poisoned  the 
water.   This  was  a  group  that  was  supposed  to  work  together 
and  be  self-supportive,  and  you  were  having  people  who 
really  were  not  that  competent  and  experienced  and  didn't 
know,  really,  the  situation  on  the  different  campuses. 
UCLA's  totally  different  than  Davis,  and  Davis  totally 
different  than  Berkeley,  and  so  on.   Quite  literally, 
there  was  at  one  time  a  proposal  to  create  a  handbook 
for  chancellors'  wives. 

Well,  these  were  the  kind  of  issues  that  began 
building,  and  little  by  little,  with  regent  backing, 
things  began  happening:   the  regents'  resolution  about 
the  libraries — which,  you  know,  even  to  this  day  they're 
still  fighting  up  there--they  never  really  fully  iraple- 
mented  it.   But  at  least  we  moved  ahead  in  a  quantim  way. 
They  always  sniped  at  it,  even  at  the  end,  until  Kerr 
finaly  got  out.   [Charles  J.]  Hitch  has  been,  I  think, 
much  fairer.   Then  came  the  building  thing.   Here  we  had 
some  very  real  problems.   I  wanted  to  finish  the  medical 

My  view  about  Kerr,  incidentally,  in  all  of  this, 
is  that  one  of  the  problems  with  Kerr  was,  he's  basically 
a  Berkeley  guy.   This  is  why  Hitch  was  a  great  appointment, 
and  why  really,  in  essence,  the  president  of  the  University 


of  California  should  never  come  from  the  system.   He 
always  should  come  from  outside.   Berkeley  was  his  home, 
and  he  lived  up  there,  and  all  those  faculty  were  his 
friends,  and  he  was  proud  of  that;  and  so  he  was  always 
going  to  see  that  Berkeley  was  number  one.   At  the  other 
end  of  the  spectrum,  he  realized  that  he'd  never  get  credit 
for  Berkeley.   That's  my  interpretation.   So  he  seized  upon 
the  new  campuses.   This  would  be  Kerr's  monxoment.   Now, 
what  fell  in  the  middle  was  a  place  like  UCLA. 
MINK:   And  like  Davis. 

MURPHY:   Yes.   Well,  what's  UCLA  going  to  do  for  Kerr? 
Nothing.   So  this  was  increasingly  part  of  the  problem — 
preoccupation  of  regents'  meetings  with  new  campuses  and 
this  and  that  and  the  other  thing,  and  camouflaging  and 
hiding  my  efforts  to  get  equal  treatment.   On  the  building 
side,  however,  we  were  very  lucky.   We  had  Mrs.  Chandler 
and  we  had  Bill  Forbes  as  members  of  the  building  and 
grounds  committee,  and  they  really  worked  with  us.   And 
I  must  say  that  whether  it  was  Kerr's  way  of  trying  to  keep 
them  happy  or  whether  he  finally  got  the  message — namely, 
that  the  southern  regents  were  determined  to  have  this  or 
whatever — the  one  thing  we  never  had  problems  with  was 
building.   We  got  that  building  money.   And  we  got  it  with 
a  minimum  of  struggle.   We  had  some  struggles  about  the 
medical  school;  they  wanted  to  only  do  half  of  it,  and 


I  finally  got  Mrs.  Chandler  to  really  ram  that  through. 
We  had  a  few  other  little  troubles.   But  we  really  got 
equity  on  building. 

Now,  our  next  step  was  on  the  FTE ,  and  according 
to  Chuck,  we're  pretty  close  to  it  now.   But  here  they 
really  twisted  and  turned.   The  regents  began  asking  ques- 
tions--you  know,  "What  is  the  faculty-student  ratio  at 
Berkeley?"   Well,  it  was  lower,  but  there  were  reasons. 
They  had  a  higher  graduate  enrollment.   Then,  right  in  the 
middle  of  the  ball  game,  they  decided  to  change  the  inter- 
nal weighting  in  terms  of  the  way  they  allocated  FTE  fac- 
ulty; and  so  now  a  PhD  program  would  have  a  factor  of  4, 
and  a  rriaster's  program  a  factor  of  2.5,  and  an  undergrad- 
uate program,  1.   So  that  was  the  thing  which  applied  to 
Berkeley  and  UCLA.   In  the  new  campuses,  however,  the 
undergraduate  got  a  factor  of  3  and  so  forth  and  so  on. 
And  they  just  jiggled  these  statistics  around — probably, 
in  my  view,  to,  in  effect,  get  the  bulk  of  the  faculty 
FTE  they  were  getting  from  the  legislature  to  the  new 
campuses  and  keep  the  Berkeley  ratios  the  way  they'd  always 
been.   Well,  we  began  fighting  this  battle,  and  again  we 
had  the  regents,  again  we  sought  statistics,  again  we  didn't 
have  them,  again  the  regents  sought  them  for  us;  and  grad- 
ually these  statistics  began  coming  out.   And  that,  as  I 
say,  is  when  Kerr  suddenly  realized  he  had  to  find  a  new 


formula,  and  they  came  up  with  this  new  formula  which 
temporarily  justified  the  then  status  quo;  although  instead 
of  reducing  the  Berkeley  thing,  we  began  getting  relatively 
more  FTE  instead  of  their  putting  them  in  the  stockpile  for 
the  new  campuses. 


TAPE  NUMBER:   II,  Side  2 
OCTOBER  19,  1973 

MINK:   I  think  that  when  you  left  off  yesterday  afternoon, 
you  were  about  to  talk  about  the  infamous  Charter  Day. 
MURPHY:   Before  I  do  that,  there 're  a  couple  of  other 
little  incidents  that  I  think  are  important  to  suggest 
the  flavor  of  the  times  and  the  character  of  the  problem. 
I  indicated  earlier  in  the  tape  some  of  my  shock  at  the 
lack  of  budgetary  responsibility,  budgetary  flexibility 
on  the  campus,  and  my  determination  to  do  something  about 
that.   That  entire  first  year,  not  only  did  I  get  the  input 
of  the  history  of  all  these  problems  that  UCLA  had  had  vis- 
a-vis Berkeley  and  the  statewide  office,  but  I  was  uncov- 
ering, week  after  week,  instances  in  which  normal,  reason- 
able campus  flexibility  didn't  exist. 

The  thing  all  culminated  when  we  were  making  plans 
for  the  first  commencement  after  I'd  gotten  here.   Some- 
where along  the  way,  as  the  program  was  being  developed, 
somebody  said,  "And  of  course,  then,  at  this  point  in  the 
program,  the  president  will  give  the  degrees,  issue  the 
degrees."   I  said,  "What?"   "Oh,  yes."   Well,  as  it  turned 
out,  for  years,  since  the  degree  was  the  University  of 
California  degree,  the  theory  had  always  been  that  the 
president  came  and,  in  ceremonial  fashion,  gave  the  degree. 


Well,  I  just  went  through  the  roof.   I  said,  "This  is  abso- 
lutely outrageous,"   I  called  up  Harry  Wellman.   He  said, 
"Oh,  yes,  this  is  the  way  it  is,  always  been.   This  is 
the  way  the  regents  want  it." 

Parenthetically,  one  of  the  games,  one  of  the  things 
that  forced  me  to  go  directly  to  the  regents  on  matters, 
was  that  early  on,  whenever  I  would  object  to  something, 
I  would  get  from  Berkeley  the  kind  of  phraseology,  "Well, 
we  understand  your  view,  but  the  regents  want  it  the 
other  way. "   This  is  the  old  technique  of  talking  about 
the  third  party.   And  I  must  say,  after  I  got  that  for  a 
while,  I  decided  to  find  out  what  the  regents  really  wanted. 

In  any  event,  on  this  issue,  I  was  determined  not 
to  give,  and  we  had  a  sort  of  showdown  meeting.   They 
gave  me  the  history,  and  I  said,  "I'm  not  interested  in 
history.   You've  given  me  the  responsibility  of  dealing  with 
this  faculty,  dealing  with  the  student  body.   Over  time  I'm 
going  to  deal  with  a  whole  cycle  of  students.   And  at  the 
very  least,  I  ought  to  be  there  to  give  them  their  degree 
there."   Well,  we  debated  back  and  forth,  and  I  absolutely 
stood  firm  on  this  matter.   Then  they  changed  it  to  the 
honorary  degree.   Well,  the  honorary  degree  is  not  given 
by  the  campus.   It's  given  by  the  regents.   It's  given 
for  the  whole  university.   I  said,  "Okay.   Let  the  president 
give  the  honorary  degree.   That's  got  the  glamour  anyway. 


That's  the  distinguished  individual.   But  the  chancellor, 
in  my  case,  I^  want  to  give  the  local  degree." 

In  the  beginning,  they  were  unwilling  to  give  all 
this,  so  they  played  a  very  clever  game.   This  thing  was 
still  in  debate;  I  was  still  hot.   And  about  a  month 
before  the  commencement,  they  called  up  from  Berkeley  and 
said  that  the  president  had  discovered  that  he  had  a  conflict 
of  dates  and  that  he  couldn't  come,  and  would  I  give  the 
degrees  for  him?   I  said,  yes,  I'd  give  the  degrees.   Well, 
then  Harry  Wellman  would  come  and  give  the  honorary  degrees. 
I  said,  "That's  all  right  with  me,  as  long  as  I  give  the 
degrees  in  course." 

The  way  that  problem  finally  got  resolved  was  that  it 
was  at  least  three  years  before  the  statewide  administration 
agreed  the  chancellor  would  give  degree  in  course  and  the 
chancellor  agreed  that  the  president  would  give  the  honor- 
ary degree.   In  all  those  three  years,  I  gave  the  degrees 
down  here,  because  in  those  three  years  President  Kerr  con- 
veniently had  a  conflict.   But  by  the  end  of  that  three 
years,  the  chancellors  had  decided  now  to  follow  me  and 
help  me  get  autonomy.   So  at  the  end  of  three  years,  it 
was  given  to  all  the  chancellors,  and  we  finally  won  that. 
MINK:   This  was  attrition,  in  other  words. 
MURPHY:   Yes.   It  took  three  years  to  kind  of  beat  'em 
down,  that's  all.   But  incredible.   The  chancellor  would 


not  give  the  degree  in  course.   Well,  we  won  that. 

Another  issue  I  remember,  a  climate.   Here  I  was  in 
Southern  California;  remember,  that  was  before  Irvine, 
before  Riverside  was  anything  but  a  little  undergraduate 
campus.   Santa  Barbara  was  small.   UCLA  was  the  University 
of  California  in  Southern  California.   I  had  been  asked 
by  the  regents,  by  the  southern  regents  especially,  and 
by  the  alumni  leadership,  to  really  bring  the  university 
into  the  community.   Well,  obviously  I  had  to  do  that,  and 
this  was  very — I  won't  say  expensive,  but  this  took  enter- 
taining; it  took  using  the  chancellor's  residence  for 
receptions  and  this  and  that;  and  there  was  very  little 
money  for  expenses.   As  a  matter  of  fact,  in  that  first 
year,  before  we  got  the  money  up,  I  took  it  out  of  my  own 
pocket — not  all,  but  a  lot  of  it. 

I  was  talking  to  Ed  Carter  one  time  about  this  and 
grumbling,  and  he  was  outraged.   He  said,  "I  can't  believe 
that."   I  said,  "It's  a  fact."   He  said,  "I'm  going  to  look 
into  it."   I  said,  "As  a  matter  of  fact,  go  beyond  that. 
Would  you  please  find  out  how  much  Kerr  has  to  spend  and 
how  much  the  chancellor  at  Berkeley  has  to  spend.   Add  those 
up,  and  then  compare  that  with  what  I  have  to  spend  for  an 
even  larger  population  area." 

Well,  as  it  turned  out,  it  was  an  enormous  differential, 
So  the  following  year,  at  Regent  Carter's  insistence,  the 


statewide  administration  increased  the  chancellor  at 

UCLA's  budget  for  this  purpose.   But  you  see,  here  again, 

it  would  have  never  happened  had  there  not  been  some  exterior 

force  that  forced  them  to  do  it.   So  when  you  hear  now — 

now  that  we  broke  through  and  UCLA's  where  it  is--when  you 

hear  those  fellows  say  what  they  did  to  help  us,  I  hope 

the  record  will  show  that  it  wasn't  that  voluntary. 

The  next  thing  is  an  interesting  little  footnote. 
After  I'd  been  operating  for  a  year  and  we'd  changed  the 
telephone  from  University  of  California  to  UCLA,  I  changed 
the  signs  on  the  streets  coming  in  from  University  of 
California  to  UCLA.   And  I'd  gone  through  these  exercises 
about  degrees  in  course  and  so  on.   It  was  perfectly  clear 
to  the  Berkeley  crowd,  as  I  said,  earlier,  that  they'd 
gotten  a  wolf  into  the  chicken  coop.   And  now  all  kinds 
of  efforts  were  mounted  to  make  me  understand  that  I 
should  be  a  team  player.   I  mentioned  McHenry  driving  me 
around  and  so  on. 

Well,  there  was  a  meeting  of  the  regents  down  here — 
I  forget  which  month;  it  was  in  my  second  year,  though, 
probably,  as  chancellor.   The  regents  in  those  days  usually 
had  a  dinner  where  they  got  together  the  Thursday  night, 
the  night  of  the  first  day  of  their  two-day  meeting.   And 
I  say  parenthetically,  it  was  all  those  regents  plus  the 
president;  and,  of  course,  the  president  is  a  regent.   So 


it  was  just  regents  only.   But  they  would  talk  about  all 
kinds  of  thing,  off  the  record,  that  related  to  the  campus. 
And  I  really  objected  to  this,  and  I  made  my  feelings  known 
to  Kerr  and  Wellman.   They  said,  "Well,  the  regents  want 
to  talk  with  themselves."   I  said,  "My  God,  we're  their 
chief  administrative  officers.   Are  they  against  us,  or 
are  we  all  together?   Even  if  we  didn't  open  our  mouths, 
it  would  be  a  good  public  relations  gesture.   This  is  just 
good  employment  practice."   Well,  it  was  clear  that  Kerr 
didn't  want  the  chancellors  to  be  visiting  with  the  regents. 
They  agreed  with  me.   They  said,  "We  don't  know  why  you 
shouldn't  be  there."   I  said,  "Well,  you  better  talk  to 
the  president  about  it."   They  obviously  did,  and  I'm  sure 
that  was  an  additional  reason  that  Kerr  and  Wellman  and 
the  others  were  thinking  of  it  as  an  unsettling  force. 

Well,  finally  we  got  a  call  one  day  that  on  this 
particular  regents'  meeting,  which  was  to  be  down  here, 
chancellors  were  invited.   And  I  went  to  it.   It  was  in  the 
Bel-Air  Hotel.   And  I  thought  it  was  just  going  to  be 
friendly — you  know,  have  some  drinks  and  sit  around  the 
table  and  talk.   The  drinks  went  very  quickly.   The  dinner 
went  very  quickly.   And  Kerr  announced  that  they  would  now 
retire  to  the  next  room  to  discuss  the  structure  of  the 
university — nothing  said  in  advance  about  this  to  me.   So 
we  go  in  there,  and  the  chairs  are  all  laid  out;  it  was 


obviously  planned  well  ahead.   And  Clark  got  up  and  spoke 
about  the  University  of  California,  its  greatness,  and  its 
greatness  because  it  was  one  university;  and  the  fact  that 
it  spoke  with  one  voice;  and  it  was  the  statewide  university; 
and  over  the  years  efforts  had  been  made  to  fragment  it, 
but  they  had  been  beaten  down.   You  know,  the  message  was 
coming  through  loud  and  clear  to  me.   And  these  were  a 
whole  lot  of  other  general  phrases  that  nobody  could  bas- 
ically disagree  with,  not  even  I.   But  you  know,  double 
entendres.   And  it  was  clear  to  me,  and  I  think  clear  to 
the  other  chancellors  and  to  a  lot  of  the  regents — maybe 
not  to  the  regents,  but  certainly  to  the  other  chancellors 
who  were  close  to  this  matter — that  he  was  really  zeroing 
in  on  me.   Lots  of  efforts,  I  repeat,  had  been  made  to 
fragment  it,  but  those  had  been  overcome,  and  the  regents 
had  taken  strong  positions  to  maintain  the  unity  of  the 
iiniversity . 

Then  he  finished,  and  then,  out  of  the  clear  blue 
sky,  he  turned  to  me  and  said,  "Now,  Chancellor  Murphy, 
would  you  care  to  comment?   Would  you  express  your  views 
in  this  matter?"   Well,  you  know,  this  was  really  put  up. 
Now,  whether  the  rest  of  it  was  put  up,  I  don't  know.   This 
much  clearly  was  put  up.   Let  me  tell  you  what  happened. 
I  got  up  and  I  said,  "Well,  you  know,  I  cannot  disagree 
basically  with  President  Kerr."   Quite  honestly,  when  I 


tell  you  what  I  said,  this  was  my  philosophy  then;  it's 
my  philosophy  today.   I  said,  "I  do  believe  that  the 
strength  of  the  University  of  California  is  related  to  the 
fact  that  it  is  one  system  with  one  board  of  regents,  with 
one  voice  to  the  legislature,  with  one  voice  to  the  master 
plan,  and  that  it  is  a  situation  where  the  sum  of  the  parts 
is  greater  than  the  whole."   But  I  said,  "On  the  other  hand, 
I  want  to  make  it  quite  clear  that  I  think  this  university 
is  no  stronger  than  its  weakest  link.   It  is  a  university 
that  has  evolved  enormously  in  the  last  ten  or  fifteen 
years  in  size,  in  visibility,  and  in  function;  and  the 
UCLA  campus,"  I  said,  "is  as  large  as  many  state  univer- 
sities in  total.   It  is  in  one  of  the  great  population 
centers  in  the  country.   I  believe  the  regents,  the  pres- 
ident, and  the  chancellors  must  work  to  develop  a  situation 
in  which  the  president,  the  office  of  the  president,  is 
respected  as  the  chief  administrative  officer  of  the  system, 
but  that  the  office  of  the  chancellor  is  a  great  deal  more 
than  merely  that  of  a  representative  on  the  campus.   He 
has  to  be  strong,  and  he  has  to  have  the  authority  to  match 
his  responsibility."   [tape  recorder  turned  off]   So  in 
effect,  I  stated  that  I  believed  in  the  system  but  that  I 
thought  the  system  was  askew  in  balance  of  authority.   And 
I  thought  I'd  be  perfectly  honest,  and  I  more  than  once 
said  that  I  thought  the  office  of  the  president  should  be 


maintained  with  dignity  and  integrity  and  influence,  etc. 

I  merely  said  that  in  balance,  you  ought  to  increase  the 

authority  and  responsibility  of  the  chancellor. 

MINK:   May  I  ask  you  something?   Do  you  think,  in  a  sense, 

that  Kerr  visualized  this  as  sort  of  a  showdown  with 


MURPHY:   Well,  in  a  sense.   Let  me  tell  you  what  happened, 

and  then  we'll  see  how  we  interpret  it,  because  this 

is  only  a  part  of  it.   Yes,  I  think  it  was  partly  that,  but 

let  me  come  back  to  that. 

One   other    thing    I    pointed   out    in   this   connection: 
I    said,    "You   know,    UCLA's   a  very   large   and   complicated 
thing,    as   is   Berkeley — the   campus,    that    is."      And    I    said, 
"You    know,    unless   you   do    have   a    strong    chancellor — and 
you   can't    have   a    strong    chancellor  unless   he's  got   authority 
--not   only   are   you   going    to   not   have   happen   what   you   want 
to   have   happen"     (and    I  must    say   I   didn't   realize   what    I 
was    saying    when    I    said    it) ,    "unless   he    is    strong    and   has 
the    image   of    authority,    you   could   conceivably   have   chaotic 
conditions   on   these   campuses."      I   think   that   came  up   to 
haunt    somebody    in   the   subsequent  difficulties. 

I'd    scarcely   sat   down   when   Harry   Wellman    stood   up  and 
said,    "Mr.    President,    I    want   to   respond   to   that."      And   then 
he   really   laced    in,    became   almost   personal.       I   obviously 
had   no  understanding   of    what  made   the  university  great; 


there  was  no  way  to  substantially  increase  the  authority 
of  the  chancellor  without  eroding  the  authority  of  the 
president's  office;  there  were  and  there  had  been  evidences 
of  fragmentation;  and  there  ought  to  be  some  understanding 
on  the  part  of  the  officers  of  the  university  of  this 
great  tradition,  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

Well,  he  had  scarcely  sat  down  when  Jesse  Steinhart. . . . 
And  I'll  never  forget  this.   Jesse  Steinhart,  as  you  know, 
was  a  part  of  that  ancient  old  Steinhart  family  in  San 
Francisco.   All  of  them  had  gone  to  Berkeley.   Jesse 
Steinhart  was  an  old  man,  clearly  of  that  generation  that 
looked  upon  the  rise  of  UCLA  as  a  terrible  thing,  of  that 
group  of  San  Franciscans  that  thought  Los  Angeles  wasn't 
worth  anything  anyway — it  was  filled  with  Hollywood  and 
this  kind  of  thing.   All  the  symbolisms  of  San  Francisco 
at  its  greatest  and  its  worst.   And  Old  Blue — one  of  the 
most  devoted  Berkeley  graduates  I  ever  knew — and  a  very 
intimate  and  close  friend  of  Clark  Kerr's.   And  he  got  up, 
and  he  blasted  me--again,  not  by  name,  but  there  wasn't 
any  doubt  as  to  who  was  getting  their  hide  flayed. 

And  this  went  on  until  finally  Catherine  Hearst  got 
up  and  said,  "Well,  I've  heard  all  of  this,  but  I'll  have 
to  tell  you,  Jesse,  and  I'll  have  to  tell  you,  Harry, 
I  don't  think  you  precisely  heard  what  Dr.  Murphy  was 
saying,  because  this  is  not  my  reaction  to  what  he  said. 


I  rather  think  that  what  he  had  to  say  didn't  go  in  the 
direction  of  wanting  to  fragment  the  university.   I  didn't 
hear  anything  about  five  boards  of  regents,"  and  so  forth 
and  so  on.   I'll  always  be  grateful  to  Catherine  for  that. 

Then  someone  else--I  believe  it  was  Canaday — got  up 
and  seconded  what  Catherine  was  saying,  and  said,  "I  don't 
really  know  why  we're  having  this  meeting.  President  Kerr. 
If  we're  to  discuss  the  structure  of  the  university,  we 
should  discuss  it  not  in  these  kind  of  generalities.   And 
I  think  Dr.  Murphy  has  a  right  to  express  his  view.   Maybe 
there  should  be  modifications.   Maybe  this  institution  has 
grown  in  such  a  way  that  we'll  have  to  modify  our  adminis- 
trative structure."   And  at  that  point,  somebody  else 
said,  "Well,  now  let's  get  on  to  the  next  subject" — what- 
ever that  was. 

I  was  so  angry,  and  I  must  say  really  hurt,  that  at 
that  point  I  just  got  up  and  walked  out.   And  somebody 
said — it  may  have  been  Wellman  or  Kerr — "Well,  now  we're 
on  to  another  subject,"  ROTC  or  something.   And  I  said, 
"I'm  sure  that  you'll  be  able  to  deal  with  that  quite 
effectively  in  my  absence  as  in  my  presence.   Goodnight, 
and  I'll  see  you  at  the  regents'  meeting  tomorrow."   I 
was  really  bitter.   I  was  bitter,  but  I  was  angry.   I 
wasn't  defeatist  at  that  moment.   I  went  home,  told  my 
wife  what  had  happened,  and  she  had  just  had  an  experience- 


one  of  the  experiences  I  described  yesterday  with  Mrs. 
Kerr — and  so  we  both  sort  of  went  to  bed  very  depressed. 

Well,  the  next  morning,  I  went  to  the  regents'  meeting, 
and  Bill  Forbes  and  two  or  three  other  people  got  me  aside 
and  said,  "Now,  look,  don't  do  anything  hastily.   It  was 
a  terrible  thing  to  do.   Mrs.  Chandler  said  the  same. 
We  know  precisely  what  your  views  are;  we  think  they're 
sound.   You  and  Dr.  Kerr  ought  to  get  together  and  nego- 
tiate this  thing  out."   And  I  said,  "Look,  I'm  ready 
to  negotiate  anytime.   The  problem  is,  they  don't  move. 
They  don't  move  except  under  pressure." 

Now,  this  episode  clearly  was  staged.   First  of  all, 
I  was  given  no  advance  notice,  nor  were  any  of  the  other 
chancellors.   Secondly,  we'd  never  been  invited  to  a  dinner 
before.   Why,  all  of  a  sudden,  that  particular  dinner? 
Clearly,  Harry  Wellman  had  been  told  to  perform. 
MINK:   Sort  of  a  Nixon-Agnew  kind  of  a  thing.   Wellman 
was  speaking  for  Kerr,  saying  the  things  that  Kerr  per- 
sonally couldn't  say. 

MURPHY:   That's  it  precisely,  precisely.   He  was  Kerr's 
spokesman.   He  was  a  ventriloquist's  Charlie  McCarthy. 
But  the  one  thing  that  really  shook  me  was  Jesse  Steinhart. 
Jesse  is  a  nice  man;  he  and  I  got  along  well.   He  didn't 
care  anything  about  UCLA,  but  he  didn't  vote  against  us. 
All  he  wanted  to  know  was  what's  happening  at  Berkeley. 


It  was  as  though  UCLA  wasn't  there.   But  now,  all  of  a 
sudden,  overnight — he  never  privately  got  me  aside  and 
said,  "Now,  look,  Franklin,  you're  getting  a  little  too 
energetic."   So  I  have  to  believe — but  in  all  fairness, 
I  don't  know  for  certain — I  have  to  believe  that  he  was  a 
part  of  the  orchestrated  act.   I  think  that  Kerr  got  the 
first  message  at  that  time  that  it  was  going  to  be  very 
tough  to  get  the  wolf  out  of  the  chicken  coop  when  he 
saw  Catherine  Hearst  and  John  Canaday,  and  I'm  sure  after 
the  meeting  some  of  the  others  went  to  him  and  said,  you 
know,  "Why?"   And  then  he  suddenly  realized  that  the 
regents — a  lot  of  the  regents,  anyway--supported  my  views, 
thought  well  of  me  as  a  person,  and  were  not  bound  to  follow 
his  lead,  or  at  least  would  be  open-minded  about  modifica- 
tions— the  regents,  that  is — in  terms  of  these  traditional 
techniques  of  administering.   Now,  have  you  got  a  question? 
MINK:   The  question  I  think  you've  pretty  well  answered, 
and  that  was  whether  you  thought  that  this  was  an  intentional 
showdown . 

MURPHY:   Kerr  was  never  a  man  [for  a  showdown]  and  never 
will  be.   You  know,  he's  a  labor  negotiator. 
MINK:   He  was  an  arbitrator,  I  know. 

MURPHY:   And  I  think  the  last  thing  Kerr  ever  wanted  was 
a  one-to-one  showdown.   There  were  plenty  of  opportunities. 
But  Clark — I'll  give  him  credit  for  this,  because  I  think 


this  is  sound  in  human  relations — Clark  was  never  one  to 
create  a  situation  where  the  two  parties  couldn't  somehow, 
sidewise,  back  out  to  come  back  another  day.   But  in  my 
mind,  there  isn't  the  slightest  doubt  that  this  was  contrived 
to  get  a  message  to  me. 

MINK:   Did  you  make  you  administrators  aware  of  this? 
MURPHY:   I  kept  very  little  back  ever  from  Chuck  Young, 
Foster  Sherwood,  and  Bill  Young.   I  didn't  go  beyond  that. 
I  didn't  tell  the  deans  or  people  like  that.   Whether 
I've  related  this  particular  incident,  I  can't  tell  you. 
I  probably  did  to  one  or  more  of  them.   I  may  not  have. 
I  must  say,  I  was  as  hurt  and  as  humiliated  and  as  angry 
and  depressed  when  I  went  home  that  evening  as  I've  been 
for  a  long,  long  time.   But  you  bounce  back  the  next  day. 
There  are  several  other  little  points  I  want  to  put  in  here 
before  I  get  to  the  confrontation.   My  memory  is  not  as 
good  as  a  computer.   All  I  can  assure  you  is  that  there 
were  literally  hundreds  of  these  kinds  of  little  episodes. 
MINK:   Needling  things. 

MURPHY:   Needling — sometimes  Kerr  directly;  more  often 
somebody  speaking  for  him  or  thinking  they  were  speaking 
for  him  and  protecting  the  power  that  that  little  group 
had  gotten.   You  see,  Kerr  was  away  a  lot.   He  delegated 
a  lot  of  stuff.   He  had  budget  officers  up  there — vice- 
presidents  and  a  whole  coterie  of  people — who  were  playing 


God  with  Kerr's  delegated  authority.   And  they  would 
play  the  same  game  that  Kerr  would  play  with  me.   Kerr 
and  Wellman  would  say,  "The  regents  want  this."   But  these 
second-level  bureaucrats  would  say  to  me,  "The  president 
wants  this,"  you  see. 

So  this  happened  over  and  over  and  over  again.   It 
not  only  happened  to  me — it  happened  to  Sherwood,  it  hap- 
pened to  Chuck  Young,  it  happened  to  Bill  Young — and  it 
was  just  a  constant  harassment.   Sure,  we  could  have  stopped 
the  harassment  by  just  sitting  back  and  saying,  "Okay,  we're 
just  a  group  of  kind  of  third-rate  administrators  down  here. 
Tell  us  what  to  do."   I  think  in  the  beginning  Bill  Yoiing 
and  Foster  really  didn't  think  I'd  lay  on  this  battle, 
because  people  had  before  and  lost  it;  but  after  a  year, 
when  they  saw  I  wasn't  going  to  give,  and  was  not  going 
to  be  denied  [what  was]  reasonable,  they  swung  all  the 
way  around,  and  they  were  in  there  loyally.   They  were 
fighting  their  counterparts  in  Berkeley  with  this  harassment 
as  much  as  I  was. 

MINK:   I  was  going  to  observe  that  I  think  in  my  experiences 
with  Bill  Young,  interviewing  him,  he's  a  pretty  hard-nosed 
guy  himself. 
MURPHY:   That's  right. 
MINK:   He  doesn't  take  any  bull. 
MURPHY:   That's  right.   Not  from  me  or  anybody  else.   But 


in  the  beginning,  they  were  all  taking  it.   They  had  been 
accustomed  to  taking  it.   Anyway,  once  they  realized  that 
I  wasn't  going  to  cave  in  and  leave  them  out  on  a  limb, 
then  we  really  got  geared  up.   Okay. 

Now  let  me  tell  you  some  of  the  problems  that  I  began 
identifying.   And  I  explained  this  to  the  regents  all  the 
way  along.   The  first  one  in  the  system,  inherent  in  the 
system,  was  the  built-in  conflict  of  interest,  with  the 
president  of  the  university  having  been  the  Berkeley 
chancellor  and  appointing  the  chancellor.   Now,  the  conflict 
of  interest  was  that  the  president  of  the  university  was 
physically  located  in  Berkeley.   Sproul  was  the  prototype. 
Sproul  was,  in  effect,  the  president  of  the  university  and 
the  Berkeley  chancellor,  because  Sproul  didn't  have  a 
chancellor.   You  remember,  the  first  Berkeley  chancellor 
was  Clark  Kerr. 

MINK:   He  had  a  provost.   [Monroe]  Deutsch. 

MURPHY:   That's  right.   Yes,  Deutsch.   But  he  [Sproul]  was 
running  Berkeley. 

MINK:   He  was  sort  of  a  figurehead,  more  or  less. 
MURPHY:   Yes.   He  was  running  Berkeley,  Sproul  was.   As 
a  matter  of  fact,  he  was  running  UCLA,  living  down  here  and 
this  sort  of  thing.   Finally,  as  you  know,  the  chancellor- 
ship was  forced  upon  Sproul — the  concept  of  the  chancellor- 
ship.  To  get  one  down  here,  in  order  to  save  face,  they 


got  one  at  Berkeley  and  they  got  one  at  Santa  Barbara. 
But  you  must  remember  that  Sproul  appointed  that  person. 
He  lived  in  that  house,  the  president's  house.   He  leaves; 
Kerr  becomes  president.   He  doesn't  want  to  move  into  it. 
He  appoints  somebody  that  he  can  manipulate  and  control 
totally.   And  symbolically,  that  house  on  the  campus  was 
left  empty.   That's  a  huge  symbolism.   We'll  come  to  that 
later  when  I  tell  you  about  the  Roger  Heyns .   He  was  the 
first  chancellor  to  live  in  that  house.   Anyway,  they 
appointed  the  first  chancellor,  Glenn  Seaborg.   Glenn 
was  a  Nobel  Prize  winner  with  a  lot  of  glamour  and  no 
administrative  experience  whatsoever. 
MINK:   He  was  a  UCLA  man  in  his  undergraduate  years. 
MURPHY:   He  was  an  undergraduate,  yes.   But  basically 
he  was  a  Berkeley  fellow.   Glenn  didn't  like  administration. 
He  wasn't  good  at  it,  either.   He  didn't  like  it.   So  in 
those  early  meetings,  when  I  was  fighting  to  get  the 
chancellors  more  authority,  Glenn  Seaborg  always  sided 
with  Kerr.   And  what  he  would  say,  I'll  never  forget.   He 
said,  "I  don't  want  to  become  a  full-time  administrator." 
Imagine!   He  said,  "My  schedule--and  I  want  you  to  know 
this — I'm  a  scholar  first  and  an  administrator  second. 
And  my  schedule  is  that  I  spend  two  days  a  week  in  the 
chancellor's  office  and  three  days  in  my  laboratory." 
Well,  the  way  he  ran  the  place  and  what  happened  at 


Berkeley  was  evidence  of  the  fact  that  there  was  somebody 

But  basically  that's  what  Kerr  wanted  to  hear,  be- 
cause Kerr  had  this  desire.   As  I  told  you  earlier,  I 
wouldn't  take  the  presidency  of  the  university,  because 
the  most  interesting  part  of  a  university  job  is  the  cam- 
pus— the  faculty,  the  students,  the  dynamics  of  it,  seeing 
departments  grow,  libraries  grow,  and  so  on.   Kerr  really 
wanted  to  be,  subconsciously,  the  Berkeley  chancellor 
and  have  that  fun,  and  be  the  president  of  the  university 
with  that  authority.   And  that  was  an  absolutely  intoler- 
able conflict  of  interest.   And  it  was  a  guarantee  that 
he  couldn't  be  objective,  either  about  authority  to  the 
chancellor  or  equity  between  Berkeley  and  UCLA.   When 
Glenn  Seaborg  left  to  go  to  Washington  and  the  Atomic 
Energy  Commission,  he  then  appointed  his  old  friend  Ed 
Strong,  who  followed  and  quoted  his  line  completely. 
MINK:   Chapter,  line,  and  verse. 

MURPHY:   And  Ed  was  a  philosopher.   He'd  never  administered 
a  department,  hardly.   And  again,  that's  precisely  what 
Kerr  wanted. 

MINK:   When  you  say  "appointed,"  this  was  simply  that 
there  was  no  list  drawn  up.   The  regents  were  just  given 
a  name? 
MURPHY:   That's  correct.   That  is  absolutely  correct. 


MINK:   It  was  sort  of  pro  forma. 
MURPHY:   Pro  forma.   In  that  case. 

MINK:   And  yet  with  the  other  chancellors,  they  would 
have  search  committees.   It  doesn't  seem  exactly  equit- 

MURPHY:   Well,  but,  you  know,  if  you're  running  a  show, 
you  can  manipulate  and  you  can  say  that  nobody  wants  the 
job  and  this  and  that.   Okay. 

All  that  time,  that  house  on  the  campus  remained 
empty.   Incidentally,  Ed  Strong,  at  these  meetings,  would 
jump  on  me,  say  he  didn't  need  the  authority  and  that  was 
a  larger  campus — why  did  I?   Stuff  like  that.   Until,  of 
course,  he  and  Kerr  had  their  split.   You  talk  to  Ed 
Strong  today  and  get  quite  a  different  picture.   John 
Saunders,  I  remember,  he  was  even  more  of  a  sycophant. 
"Oh,  yes,  I  don't  need  any  more  authority,"  and  "If  we 
give  the  authority  we'll...."   He  said  all  the  things  Kerr 
wanted  to  hear.   When  Kerr  fired  him,  or  was  told  to  fire 
him  by  the  regents — I  don't  know  which  it  was — Saunders 
suddenly  saw  the  reality.   And  somebody  ought  to  take  his 
oral  history,  if  indeed  you've  got  asbestos  tape;  for 
then,  he  would  tell  me  what  he  had  been  told  to  say. 
He'd  been  programmed.   He  had  been  told  what  I  might 
probably  say  at  a  chancellor's  meeting  and  what  he  then 
was  to  say  in  rebuttal.   He's  told  me  this  more  than  once. 


So  that  the  chancellors  at  that  time  were  inarticu- 
late, frightened,  I  think,  to  some  extent  by  the  president. 
They'd  all  been  appointed  by  him  or  they  assumed  that  he 
could  get  the  regents  to  fire  'em.   They  assumed  that  if 
they  were  good  they'd  get  their  budgets  improved,  and 
all  this  kind  of  thing.   And  Kerr  used  them.   It  wasn't 
until  about  the  third  year  that  the  chancellors  really 
began  to  speak  up,  and  the  first  one  to  come  along  and 
support  me  was  Emil  Mrak  at  Davis.   And  in  the  end,  he 
was  a  tower  of  strength  in  our  struggle  to  get  for  the 
chancellors — not  just  for  UCLA,  not  just  for  me — but 
to  get  a  workable  system  within  the  system.   In  the  end, 
we  were  all  together.   I  was  the  spokesman.   But  in  the 
beginning,  I  was  a  very  lonely  spokesman.   I  don't  resent 
it.   I  just  resent  the  fact  that  it  was  all  so  unnecessary. 
Okay,  these  were  the  notes  that  I  made,  and  we'll  come 
back  to  some  of  these  later. 

MINK:   Was  there  any  particular  reason  that  caused  Emil 
to  see  the  light? 

MURPHY:   Well,  I  think  there  were  two  reasons.   First  of 
all,  you  know,  Emil  was  an  Old  Blue  through  and  through. 
He  went  to  Berkeley,  got  his  graduate  degrees  at  Berkeley; 
his  wife  was  a  Berkeley  graduate.   But  I  think  when  he 
saw  Kerr  beginning  to  move  to  put  the  resources  in  the 
new  campuses  and  not  permit  Davis  to  develop  into  a  general 


campus  university,  he  then  began  to  realize  that  his  hopes 
for  Davis  would  not  be  achieved  unless  he  spoke  up.   Further- 
more, by  that  time  Kerr  was  away  so  much,  making  speeches 
and  consulting  in  the  government  and  so  on,  that  Mrak  was 
now  dealing  with  the  second  level,  and  he  was  furious  with 
these  people — the  budget  officers  and  the  others  that  were 
telling  him  what  he  could  and  couldn't  do,  and  always  saying 
"The  president  says  this  and  that. "   Emil  would  talk  to  me 
and  say,  "Franklin,  you  know,  Clark  doesn't  want  this. 
Just  some  bureaucrat  does."   I  said,  "Why  don't  you  ask 
him?"   "Well,  I  can't  get  hold  of  him.   He's  a  very  busy 
man."   Finally,  I  said  one  day,  "Emil,  listen,  wake  up 
to  the  fact:   you  know  damn  well  Clark  wants  this,  or 
these  fellows  wouldn't  be  saying  it.   You've  written  him 
letters;  you've  made  phone  calls;  you've  talked  to  him. 
You  get  doubletalk,  but  it's  still  happening,  isn't  it?" 
He  said,  "Yes."   Then  I  said,  "What  conclusion  does  an 
intelligent  man  draw?"   "Well,"  he  said,  "I  just  can't 
believe  that  Clark  would  say  one  thing  and  really  not 
mean  it."   I  said,  "Well,  you're  going  to  have  to  draw 
your  own  conclusions."   I  said,  "All  I  ask  you  is  to  be 
totally  objective.   That's  all." 

Well,  finally,  he  came  around,  and  he  said,  "Franklin, 
you  know,  you're  right.   We've  got  to  fight  if  we're  going 
to  get  the  kind  of  authority  and  responsibility  that  permits 


us  to  make  some  campus  decisions."   He  was  more  apologetic 
for  Clark  than  I  ever  was,  which  was  okay.   Maybe  I'm  over- 
reacting; that's  an  absolute  possibility.   He  would  say, 
"I  think  Clark  really  doesn't  want  to  confront  his  own 
people.   I  think  he  really  believes  that  I  should  have 
this  and  this  and  this  authority,  but  his  own  people  have...." 
"Well,"  I  said,  "then  there's  only  one  thing  for  you  to  do, 
and  that's  just  to  force  it."   And  he  agreed.   So  he  was  the 
first  recruit. 

Sara  Gould  came  in  about  that  time.   He  was  helpful. 
Unfortunately,  he  left,  for  some  of  the  reasons  I  mentioned 
earlier.   John  Saunders,  never,  because  before  he  realized 
the  truth  and  the  reality,  he  was  out.   Ed  Strong,  never, 
because  when  he  realized  the  truth,  he  was  locked  in  a 
life-and-death  struggle  with  Clark  about  the  Berkeley  campus 
and  the  riots,  and  he  really  couldn't  think  about  anything 
else.   Subsequently,  Strong  has  told  me  that  he  really 
knew  I  was  absolutely  right  and  felt  he  was  not  in  a  position 
to  do  anything  about  it. 

Okay,  that's  part  of  this  climate.   And  if  you  say, 
"Well,  gee,  that  sounds  like  a  chronic  struggle;  was  it 
really  that  all  the  time?"   I'll  have  to  tell  you,  it 
was.   Now,  this  is  not  stuff  that  was  in  the  Daily  Bruin 
or  in  the  Los  Angeles  Times,  because  a  lot  of  this  was 
locked  behind  doors,  and  you  don't  give  press  releases 


about  this  sort  of  thing. 

MINK:   How  visible  was  it  to  the  governor  and  to  the 
speaker  of  the  assembly? 
MURPHY:   Very  invisible. 
MINK:   And  the  other  politicos? 

MURPHY:   I  think  as  far  as  the  politicos  were  concerned, 
it  was  quite  invisible.   I  don't  think  they  ever  realized 
that  Kerr  and  I  were  having  this  battle,  because  publicly 
I  was  always  supporting  Kerr,  always  supporting  him.   I 
made  speeches  about  this  gifted  man,  this  good  president. 
Kerr  in  the  end — and  I'm  getting  ahead  of  my  story--fre- 
quently  turned  to  me;  for  example,  he  had  a  real  problem 
of  getting  the  regents  to  agree  to  eliminate  compulsory 
ROTC.   And  he  finally  came  to  me.   Wellman,  I  think,  told 
him  to.   He  said,  "Look,  I  need  your  support  on  this. 
There  are  three  or  four  regents  whose  votes  I've  got  to 
have,  and  I'm  not  going  to  get  them  unless  you  help  me." 
I  said,  "I'll  help  you."   I  talked  to  them  privately, 
and  stood  up  at  the  meeting,  and  fought  with  Ed  Pauley, 
my  old  friend;  and  we  got  that  through.   There  were  other 
things  like  that.   Publicly,  I  never,  to  the  very  end, 
turned  my  back  on  Clark.   I  thought  it  was  totally  unfair 
to  do  so,  and  I  did  my  fighting  privately.   And  in  public, 
if  I  fought  at  all,  it  was  in  his  behalf — including,  as 
you'll  discover  later,  saving  his  job  a  year  before  he  lost 


it  and  so  on. 

Okay,  now,  the  famous  Charter  Day  episode.   From  the 
time  I'd  come,  I  inherited  the  concept  of  Charter  Day. 
I  began  to  get  restless  about  it.   I  said,  you  know,  "Charter 
Day.   Well,  that's  the  foundation  of  the  University  of 
California,  that's  true,  but  it's  really  the  foundation  of 
the  Berkeley  campus."   I  said,  "Sure,  we'll  celebrate  that, 
but  we've  got  to  have  our  own  day,  when  UCLA  was  founded" — 
forty-fifth  [anniversary]  or  whatever  it  was  when  I  came. 
So  I  began  working  with  the  Alumni  Association  on  this  one. 
Doug  Kinsey  was  here  at  the  time — or  maybe  it  was  even  when 
Harry  Longway  was  here  I  started  on  it.   I  talked  to  the 
Aliomni  Association,  which  parenthetically  I  found  weak 
and  underfinanced,  by  and  large. 

One  of  the  things  I  worked  very  hard  on,  and  I  think 
fairly  successfully,  was  to  make  these  people  understand 
that  if  they  were  going  to  have  an  Alumni  Association  to 
match  the  quality  and  the  size  of  this  institution,  or  the 
Berkeley  one,  they  had  to  put  money  in  it,  they  had  to  get 
adequate  quarters.   Let's  talk  about  that  later;  that's  an 
interesting  story  unto  itself,  starting  fund  raising  and 
getting  the  Alumni  Association  reorganized. 

Anyway,  I  began  talking  with  these  people  about  doing 
our  own  thing,  not  in  lieu  of,  but  in  addition  to.   Well, 
finally  word  got  up  to  Berkeley  that  we  were  thinking  of 


having,  in  the  spring,  a  celebration  of  the  foundation  of 
the  UCLA  campus.   So  I  got  the  word:   "What's  this  all  about?" 
"Well,"  I  said,  "we  want  to  take  note  of  the  fact  that  forty- 
five  years  ago  UCLA  was  founded."   "Well,  don't  we  have  a 
Charter  Day?"   I  said,  "Sure,  that's  the  University  of  Cali- 
fornia.  We'll  do  both."   Well,  they  were  restless  about  it, 
especially  since  by  that  time  the  student  body  had  decided 
to  choose  as  their  song — and  I  encouraged  them  behind  the 
scenes — Hail  to  the  Hills  of  Westwood.   I  wanted  them  to  have 
a  song  that  was  theirs.   That  upset  the  people  at  Berkeley 
a  lot.   They  said,  "Well,  what  about  the  University  of  Cali- 
fornia song?"   I  said,  "Well,  the  kids  can  sing  that.   Let 
the  kids  sing  what  they  want.   This  is  their  campus.   I'm 
not  going  to  tell  them  what  to  sing  or  what  not  to  sing." 
I  said,  "I  can  assure  you  that  at  Charter  Day  that  will  be 
sung,  because  that  is  a  University  of  California  thing." 

Well,  of  course,  the  chancellor's  role  in  Charter  Day 
was  zero  when  I  arrived.   The  theory  here  was,  the  president 
came  down,  took  the  whole  thing  over,  made  the  speech.   What 
the  chancellor  did--and  I  did  it  the  first  time — the  most  he 
was  asked  to  do  was  to  present  one  of  the  candidates  for  the 
honorary  degree.   The  president  made  the  speech,  and  the 
president  presided.   So  after  going  through  the  first  one 
of  these  exercises,  I  sat  down  with  the  people — in  this 
case  Earl  Bolton,  who'd  been  hired  by  that  time  as  vice- 


president  for  ceremonies  and  everything--and  I  said,  "Earl, 
look.   I  think  the  chancellor  ought  to  preside."   "No,  no, 
no;  this  is  a  university  day."   I  said,  "What  the  hell,  am 
I  a  part  of  the  university  or  not?   This  is  my  campus." 
I  said,  "I  ought  to  preside,  and  I'll  introduce  the  presi- 
dent.  He  can  make  the  speech;  he  can  give  the  honorary 
degrees.   All  I  do  is  just  welcome  the  people  on  my  campus." 
Well,  that  seemed  to  be  a  very  complicated  problem.   I  kept 
pressing  this,  pressing  it,  and  finally,  I  guess  to  get  me 
off  their  neck,  they  agreed.   It  was  modified  to  that  extent. 
So,  I  guess  starting  with  the  second  or  third  Charter  Day, 
at  least  I  presided. 

Secondly,  when  I  presided,  what  I  did  was  to  welcome 
these  people,  and  I  spoke  for  about  five  minutes.   "I 
welcome  you  here  today  to  UCLA" — a  little  bit  about  UCLA, 
this  and  that  and  the  other.   Well,  I  was  accused  of  having 
made  a  speech  rather  than  presiding.   I  said,  "Well,  listen. 
This  is  like  angels  on  the  head  of  a  pin.   If  my  welcoming 
comments  are  five  minutes  or  three  minutes,  just  say  I'm 
too  articulate.   But  I  didn't  make  a  speech.   I  made  some 
opening  comments.   This  is  what  I  say."   I  then  said,  "Look. 
You've  given  me  a  good  idea.  Earl.   I  think  the  chancellor 
should  make  some  comments."   So  I  said,  "I  think  what  I'm 
going  to  do,  I'm  going  to  extend  this  to  about  eight  minutes." 
"Well,  I'll  have  to  check  with  the  president."   I  said. 


"You  just  tell  the  president  that  my  opening  comments  are 
going  to  be  a  little  longer  than  usual.   I'll  not  duplicate 
anything  he  says.   I'm  not  going  to  talk  about  the  statewide 
university. " 

So  gradually  that's  the  way  Charter  Day  evolved,  and 
I  never  went  beyond  that.   I  never  demanded  more  than  that, 
because  I  did  believe  that  the  center  of  attraction  was  the 
president.   I,  as  chancellor,  on  behalf  of  the  campus, 
welcomed  him  to  one  of  his  campuses.   I  introduced  him.   I 
usually  was  very  fulsome  in  my  introduction  and  then 
turned  the  whole  thing  over  to  him.   Well,  they  couldn't 
really  object  to  that,  finally.   (And  incidentally,  I  had 
a  little  regents'  help  on  that,  too.) 

The  next  kind  of  an  operation  was  that  after  Charter 
Day,  there  was  a  luncheon,  always  a  luncheon.   And  tradi- 
tionally, the  Alumni  Association  laid  on  the  lunch.   The 
Alumni  Association  would  seat  at  the  head  table  the  honor- 
ary degree  fellows,  the  president,  the  chancellor,  and  so 
on.   They  made  all  the  arrangements.   So  that  went  on  for 
several  years,  till  we  came  to  whatever  year  it  was  of  the 
[Adolf o]  Lopez  Mateos-Lyndon  Johnson. 


TAPE  NUMBER:   III,  Side  1 
OCTOBER  19,  1973 

MURPHY:   Well,  came  this  famous  Charter  Day.   There  are  so 
many  elements,  but  let  me  try  to  remember  what  I  can  about 
it.   John  Kennedy  had  been  assassinated,  and  Lyndon  Johnson 
was  the  new  president  of  the  United  States.   Ed  Pauley, 
Regent  Pauley,  had  for  many  years  been  a  close  friend  of 
Lyndon  Johnson.   So  Pauley  got  the  idea — I  think  this  whole 
thing  really  originated  with  Ed  Pauley — that  it  would  be  a 
great  thing  early  in  Johnson's  administration  for  the  uni- 
versity to  give  him  an  honorary  degree.   Pauley,  at  that 
time,  also  had  a  deep  interest  in  Mexico.   And  in  his  fertile 
mind,  he  conceived  the  idea  that  we  should  also  give  Lopez 
Mateos,  who  was  then  the  president  [of  Mexico],  an  honorary 
degree;  and  that  since  Johnson  had  publicly  stated  that  a 
good-neighbor  policy  in  the  U.S.  was  going  to  be  one  of  the 
high  points  of  his  administration,  why  not  have  Lopez  Mateos 
and  Johnson  meet  for  the  first  time  in  California  and  give 
them  both  an  honorary  degree. 

Well,  he  talked  to  Clark  Kerr.   Pauley  was  then,  I 
think,  chairman  of  the  board;  or  even  if  he  weren't,  he  was 
always,  as  you  know,  a  powerful  regent.   He  also  talked  with 
Governor  [Edmund  G. ]  Brown,  and  Governor  Brown  thought  that 
it  was  a  fantastic  idea.  Brown  being  a  Democrat  and  Pauley 


a  Democrat  and  Johnson  a  Democrat.   Well,  needless  to  say, 
Clark  Kerr  was  not  about  to  say  no,  when  the  governor  and 
Pauley  said  this  was  a  good  idea. 

Now,  Ed  Pauley,  more  than  any  other  regent,  had  the 
habit  of  dealing  directly  with  me.   This  infuriated  Clark 
Kerr,  but  there  was  nothing  he  could  do  about  it;  and,  for 
that  matter,  there  was  nothing  I  could  do  about  it.   Pauley 
would  simply  call  me  up  and  say,  "Look,  I  want  to  come  to 
the  campus  and  talk  to  you  about  this  or  that  or  the  other 

So  he  called  me,  and  he  said,  "What  do  you  think  about 
it?"   I  said,  "Fantastic."   "Well,  now,"  he  said,  "I  want 
to  keep  you  fully  informed."   I  said  all  right.   I  called 
Clark;  thank  God  I  called  Clark.   I  said,  "Clark,  Ed  Pauley 
called  me,  and  he  told  me  about  this  idea.   I  think  it's  a 
great  idea.   What's  happening?"   And  Clark  was  very  short 
with  me.   He  said,  "Well,  now,  look.   Ed  Pauley  was... 
out  of  line,"  he  called  it.   "This  thing  hasn't  even  been 
fully  cleared  with  the  regents."   And  he  said,  "Don't  you 
worry  about  it.   We'll  take  care  of  it  in  our  office." 
I  said,  "I'm  not  worried  about  it.   I'm  just  calling  to 
tell  you  that  Pauley  called  me."   I  couldn't  understand 
why  there  was  this  irrational  overreaction. 

Okay.   The  next  thing  I  hear,  I'm  in  my  office,  and 
Ed  Pauley  calls  from  Mexico  City.   And  he  said,  "I've  just 


talked  to  Lopez  Mateos's  secretary,  and  he's  interested  in 
the  idea.   And  I'm  going  to  fly  to  Washington  to  talk  to 
Lyndon  Johnson.   Now,  tell  me  what  are  the  best  dates?" 
So  I  quickly  look  at  the  calendar,  and  I  figure  out  some 
dates,  and  I  say,  "Well,  I  think  this  or  this  or  this  would 
be  fine."   Again,  I  immediately  call  Clark  Kerr,  and  I  say, 
"I've  just  heard  from  Ed  Pauley  from  Mexico  City,"  and  I 
relate  the  conversation.   Kerr  is  extremely  short.   "Well, 
why  didn't  he  call  me?"   I  said,  "Clark,  I  don't  know. 
Believe  me,  I  don't  know.   You'll  have  to  ask  him."   "But," 
I  said,  "you're  learning  it  within  five  minutes  after  I 
learned  it."   I  said,  "As  a  matter  of  fact,  if  Ed's  going 
to  independently  operate  this  way,  he  may  be  calling  me 
again,  and  I  promise  you  you'll  hear  as  you  have  in  the  past 
— immediately,  if  he  calls."   "Well,"  he  said,  "I  should 
be  doing  this."   I  said,  "Clark,  I  really  think  so.   But 
that's  your  problem  with  Ed  Pauley.   There's  nothing  I  can 
do  about  Ed  Pauley.   Why  don't  you  call  him  up?"   He  said, 
"Well,  where  is  he?"   I  said,  "Well,  he's  on  his  way  to 
Washington,  I  gather — that's  what  he  told  me — to  talk  to 
Johnson. " 

Well,  whether  Clark  ever  called  him  or  not,  I  don't 
know,  because  about  three  or  four  days  later,  Pauley  calls 
me — now  from  Los  Angeles — saying  that  Johnson  has  agreed 
in  principle.   And  now  the  problem  is  to  work  out  the  dates. 


And  he  said,  "Now,  will  you  get  after  this?"   I  said, 
"Ed,  I  can't  do  this.   The  president's  office  ought  to  do 
it."   "Well,"  he  said,  "then  will  you  get  him  to  do  it?" 

So  I  call  Clark  Kerr,  and  I  relate  this  conversation. 
Well,  needless  to  say,  he's  furious.   I  don't  blame  him. 
But  I'm  an  innocent  party  in  this  whole  damned  thing.   So 
I  say,  "Clark,  really,  would  you  call  Ed  and  take  this 
thing  over?   Because,  look,  it  ought  to  be  in  one  place." 
He  said  okay,  he  would.   And  I  said,  "Seeing  all  the  formal 
letters  and  invitations  have  to  go  out,  I  would  like  to 
suggest  some  dates  because  of  scheduled  problems  down  here 
and  so  on."   And  I  gave  him  the  same  dates.   And  I  said, 
"Now,  they've  obviously  got  to  relate  to  your  calendar. 
Would  you  check?"   Tmd  he  checked,  and  yes,  two  or  three 
of  them  would  be  okay.   I  said,  "Well,  I  hope  this  is  the 
last  time  I  hear  about  the  invitations  and  getting  this 
done. " 

Well,  they  went  ahead,  and  they  wrote  the  letters 
from  Berkeley,  and  the  agreement  was  made — they  picked 
a  date.   Well,  when  Kerr  informed  me  of  this,  of  the  date, 
I  called  together  our  people — Andy  Hamilton;  I  got  Bob 
Neiomann  into  the  act,  because  Bob  was  very  knowledgeable 
about  protocol  and  he  was  the  head  of  our  foreign  educa- 
tion program  at  that  time;  and  I  got  all  of  the  other 
people  that  would  normally  be  concerned  with  planning; 


and  I  got  the  Alumni  Association  into  the  act.   I  think 

Tom  Davis  was  involved  in  that.   Tom  Davis  was  a  regent, 

I  guess,  at  that  time,  and  he  was  centrally  involved  as 

an  alumnus.   Wasn't  he  president  of  the  Alumni  Association? 

And  I  said,  "You  fellows  had  better  get  busy,  because  this 

is  going  to  be  quite  a  lunch." 

MINK:   It  was  quite  a  day. 

MURPHY:   And  quite  a  day. 

MINK:   Sure. 

MURPHY:   And  Tom  said,  "Well,  look,  we're  going  to  have  to 

rely  a  lot  on  you  and  your  office  and  Judy";  and  I  said, 

"Look,  we'll  do  anything  we  can,  but  please  take  this 

responsibility. " 

Well,  the  first  thing  that  happened  was  that  some 
Secret  Service  people  came  out  from  Washington,  very  far 
in  advance,  to  look  the  place  over.   And  I  assigned  our 
police  department,  buildings  and  grounds  people  to  it  and 
so  on.   The  next  thing  I  get  is  a  phone  call  from  Berkeley 
in  which  they  say,  "We  understand  that  some  Secret  Service 
people  are  there.   Why  weren't  we  informed?"   And  I  said, 
"Well,  you  know,  this  is  a  mechanical  thing."   "Well,  we 
haven't  agreed  on  where  this  should  be  held."   I  said, 
"Well,  I  told  you.   We're  going  to  hold  it  in  the  athletic 
field.   We're  going  to  have  to  build  some  bleachers." 
"Well,  you  don't  have  the  budget  for  that."   I  said,  "I 


know.   I'm  going  to  ask  the  regents  for  $25,000."   "Well, 
why  aren't  we  brought  into  this  more?"   I  said,  "Well,  all 
right,  how  do  you  want  to  be  brought  into  it?"   "Well,  we 
want  to  know  whenever  there  are  any  inquiries." 
MINK:   Who  were  these  people  that  were  calling? 
MURPHY:   I  can't  remember.   Some  functionary.   It  wasn't 
Kerr.   Earl  Bolton,  I  think,  probably.   So  the  next  thing 
that  happened  was  that  I'd  asked  Bob  Neumann  to  find  out 
from  the  State  Department,  and  from  the  local  Mexican 
consul  and  whomever  was  involved,  some  protocol  things. 
I  said,  "Develop  a  memo  here  about  who  has  priority,  senior- 
ity, and  so  forth."   Well,  Bob  made  a  couple  of  calls  to 
Washington  and  the  State  Department,  just  about  mechanical, 
protocol-type  things,  and  to  the  Mexican  consul. 

Then  again  I  got  a  phone  call,  "What's  Neumann  doing? 
We  understand  that  Bob  Neumann  is  taking  over  the  arrange- 
ments."  I  said,  "No,  he  isn't  taking  over  the  arrangements." 
Finally,  this  got  so  harassing  that  I  went  to  Berkeley,  and 
I  got  hold  of  Kerr,  and  I  said,  "Look.   This  thing  is  becoming 
extremely  difficult."   I  said,  "Would  you  please  assign  some- 
body on  your  staff  as  the  person,  and  we  will  deal  directly 
with  him  and  he  deals  directly  with  us.   And  then  he  can 
report  to  you — someone  that  you  have  total  confidence  in — 
because  here  we  are  with  an  enormously  complicated  thing, 
for  which  we're  responsible,  lying  ahead  of  us.   We  have  to 


make  plans;  we  have  to  call  people.   We've  got  people  coming 
out  to  see  us.   We  have  to  give  instant  decisions.   And  we 
can't  have  this  caught  up  in  this  statewide  bureaucracy. 
I'm  not  going  to  consult  with  your  building  man  on  putting 
the  bleachers  up  and  another  fellow  on  this  and  another 
fellow  on  this.   Put  somebody  in  charge."   He  said,  "All 
right,  I'll  put  Earl  Bolton  in  charge."   I  said  fine. 
I  told  Andy  Hamilton  that  he  was  to  deal  with  Earl  Bolton; 
I  told  Bob  Neumann  he  was  to  deal  with  Earl  Bolton. 

In  the  meantime — and  I've  got  this  correspondence — 
Kerr  wrote  Bob  Neiomann  one  of  the  nastiest  letters  I've 
ever  read  in  my  life,  accusing  him  of  going  far  beyond  his 
authority.   It  was  an  irrational  letter.   Neumann  was  hurt. 
He  came  in,  and  he  said,  "What  does  this  mean?"   I  read  it. 
I  said,  "Bob,  I  haven't  the  vaguest  idea,  but"  I  said, 
"these  people  in  Berkeley  are  up  so  tight  about  this  that 
you  can't  imagine  it."   He  said,  "What  shall  I  do?"   I  said, 
"You  sit  down  and  write  Clark  Kerr  the  same  kind  of  a  letter. 
You  say  in  paragraph  one  this:   'It  is  not  true.   This  is 
what  the  facts  are.'"   I  said,  "Kerr  has  obviously  been 
misinformed  and  badly  informed."   And  he  wrote  such  a  letter 
and  sent  me  a  copy  of  it,  which  I  have  along  with  the  copy 
of  the  original  letter  that  he  wrote  to  Neumann. 

Well,  about  this  time,  our  people  were  working  desper- 
ately to  get  things  up  and  work  with  the  Secret  Service  and 


so  on.   And  Andy  was  loyally  trying  to  work  with  Earl 
Bolton.   Earl  Bolton  was  really  throwing  his  weight  around. 
Well,  we  were  able  to  take  that  until  Kay  Kerr  got  into 
the  act  about  the  luncheon.   And  Bolton  was  starting  to 
say,  "Now,  Mrs.  Kerr  wants  this;  and  Mrs.  Kerr  is  going 
to  do  that;  and  Mrs.  Kerr,  as  you  know,  is  the  official 
hostess  for  this  thing;  and  she  wants  this  at  the  lunch; 
and  she  doesn't  want  this  at  the  lunch,"  and  so  forth  and 
so  on.   So  we  got  hold  of  Tom  Davis,  and  I  said,  "Tom, 
you  know,  you're  planning  this  and  that,  but  that  isn't 
what  Mrs.  Kerr  wants."   "What  the  hell  has  Mrs.  Kerr  got 
to  do  with  it?"   I  said,  "Well,  you  should  know  this." 
Tom  got  furious.   And  I  said,  "You're  a  regent.   You  go 
directly  to  the  president."   Andy  had  informed  him  of  this 
as  well  as  I.   Tom  had  said,  "You  know,  all  they're  doing 
is  creating  terrible  problems  for  us;  and  after  all,  this 
is  our  lunch,  not  theirs." 

Well,  Bolton  apparently  was  confused  about  this.   He 
thought,  in  the  beginning,  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kerr  were 
putting  on  the  lunch,  and  therefore  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kerr  wanted 
this  and  this  and  this  and  that's  what  they  were  going  to 
have.   Incidentally,  the  whole  lunch  was,  in  a  sense,  built 
around  Clark  and  Kay  Kerr;  and  then  the  two  presidents  and 
their  cabinets  were  coming  along  and  so  on.   And  the  rest 
of  us  were,  you  know,  out  in  the  audience. 


Apparently,  Davis  and  Kerr  had  a  real  set-to  about 
this.   And,  in  a  sense,  Kerr  took  it  out  on  me,  because 
the  implication  is — he  had  his  underlings  talk  to  me, 
especially  Bolton — that  I  had  put  the  Alumni  Association 
up  to  this  and  that  they  were  acting  as  a  front.   And  they 
even  brought  my  wife  into  it,  who  was  an  innocent  bystander — 
that  the  Alumni  Association  are  running  interference  for 
you  and  Mrs.  Murphy,  but  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Kerr  are  the  host 
and  hostess.   And  I  said,  "Earl,  let  me  make  one  thing 
clear  to  you.   I  never  assumed  I  was  the  host — least  of 
all,  Mrs.  Murphy  the  hostess.   I  must  explain  to  you  that 
from  the  very  beginning — and  this  is  like  it's  been  every 
other  year — the  Alumni  Association  is  the  host.   "Well," 
he  said,  "that  isn't  the  way  Dr.  Kerr  views  it."   I  said, 
"You'd  better  talk  to  him,  and,  again,  tell  him  to  decide 
right  now  whether  he  wants  to  change  the  tradition.   And 
if  he  does,  you  have  him  tell  Mr.  Davis,  tell  the  UCLA 
alumni  people.   Leave  me  out  of  it.   I'll  be  there.   I'll 
be  sitting  somewhere,  I  guess."   "Well,"  he  said,  "you  should 
talk  to  Davis."   I  said,  "I  won't  do  it.   You  guys  got  into 
this;  you've  created  all  of  this  dust."   I  said,  "Now, 
listen.   If  you  had  left  this  to  us  and  the  president — he 
issued  the  invitations;  we  would  have  made  all  the  arrange- 
ments.  Hell,  we've  done  this  before.   We're  not  children 
down  here.   And  we  would  have  sat  down  with  you,  worked 


out  the  program  the  way  you  wanted  it.   It  would  have  been 
very  simple."   And  I  said,  "Really,  the  real  problem  here 
is  that  President  and  Mrs.  Kerr  have  thrown  themselves 
into  this  as  though  this  were  happening  at  Berkeley.   But 
it  isn't."   So  he  went  back.   I  don't  know  how  he  phrased 
it  with  Kerr. 

Oh,  then  there  was  the  question  of  the  press  release. 
The  announcement.   That  had  come  a  bit  earlier,  and  that 
had  really  been  an  issue,  too,  because  the  press  release 
said,  "President  Clark  Kerr  announced  today  that  at  Charter 
Day  at  UCLA,  honorary  degrees  will  be  given..."  etc.,  etc., 
etc.   "President  Kerr  says  that..."  and  then  there's  a  quo- 
tation of  a  lot  of  things  that  he  said — "a  landmark  day  in 
the  history  of  the  University  of  California,"  etc. — and  no 
comment  by  the  UCLA  chancellor.   Andy  brought  it  in  to  me. 
He  said,  "This  is  what  Al  Pickerell  sent  down."   I  read  the 
damned  thing,  and  I  said,  "Look,  I'm  not  going  to  approve 
it.   They've  got  to  put  in  there — and  you  write  it;  I  don't 
give  a  damn  what's  said — they've  got  to  say,  'and  Chancellor 
Franklin  D.  Murphy  comments  that  for  UCLA  this  is  a  great 
day, '  and  so  forth.   Put  it  at  the  end.   But  it  has  to  be 

Parenthetically,  when  I'm  through  with  this  story, 
remind  me  to  come  back  and  tell  you  about  the  hassles  we 
had  about  the  announcements,  both  on  Charter  Day  appointees 


and  the  appointment  of  presidents  and  deans.   We'll  come 
to  that  in  a  moment. 

Well,  they  sent  it  back  to  Pickerell,  and  Pickerell 
took  it  in  to  Kerr;  and  I  assume  that  Kerr  blew  up  and 
said,  "That  damned  Murphy.   Can't  he  leave  things  alone?" — 
or  something.   Anyway,  this  was  a  real  hassle.   Finally 
they  decided  yes,  they'd  give  me  one  line. 
MINK:   Generous. 

MURPHY:   It  was  a  real  struggle  just  to  get  in  there  at 
all.   Okay.   Then  came  this  Bolton  thing  and  the  hassle 
about  the  luncheon — the  question  of  whether  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Kerr  were  the  hosts  or  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Murphy;  my  saying  that 
we  never  intended  to  be,  it  was  the  Alumni  Association. 
The  next  thing  that  happens  is,  I'm  in  Kansas  City  at  a 
Hallmark  board  meeting,  and  Andy  or  Chuck  or  somebody 
called  me  and  said,  "The  president  has  announced  that 
he's  not  going  to  attend  Charter  Day  at  UCLA  and  is  so 
going  to  advise  the  regents.   We  just  had  a  call."   I 
said,  "Oh,  what's  the  problem?"   "Well,  he  simply  says 
that  since  UCLA  has  taken  the  whole  thing  over,  he  doesn't 
wish  to  be  a  part  of  it."   I  get  on  the  phone;  I  call  Kerr; 
and  I  finally  get  him.   And  I  said,  "What's  this  I  hear?" 
He  said,  "Absolutely."   He  said,  "You've  taken  this  out 
of  our  hands  completely,  and,"  he  said,  "I  don't  want  to 
have  any  responsibility  or  any  part  of  it.   And  Mrs.  Kerr 


feels  the  same  way."   Well,  I  said,  "Clark,  I  don't  know 
what  you're  talking  about,"  and  I  repeated  that  Earl  Bolton 
had  been  fully  informed  and  we  were  reacting.   And  the  pro- 
gram was  precisely  the  way--he  was  going  to  introduce  the 
two,  and  he  was  going  to  give  the  honorary  degrees,  and  he 
was  going  to  make  the  speech.   And  I  said,  "What's  the  prob- 
lem?"  "Well,  this  luncheon.   Apparently  you  and  Mrs.  Murphy 
insist  on  being  host  and  hostess."   I  said,  "Look,  Bolton 
has  either  lied  to  you,  or  he  hasn't  told  you  the  facts. 
We  never  intended  to  be."   I  said,  "Clark,  you  know  that 
this  has  been  the  Alumni  Association's  responsibility." 
"Well,  that's  just  a  front."   "Well,"  I  said,  "it  wasn't 
a  front  before.   Why  wasn't  it  last  year  or  the  year  before?" 
"Well,  this  is  different.   These  are  two  heads  of  state. 
This  is  a  unique  moment  in  the  history  of  the  University  of 
California."   "Well,"  I  said,  "make  your  peace  with  Davis, 
not  with  me."   "Well,"  he  said,  "you  should  make  the  peace." 
But  he  said,  "Furthermore,  I'm  just  through  with  it." 
"Well,"  I  said,  "do  the  regents  know  this?"   He  said,  "I've 
written  them  a  letter  today,  all  the  regents."   And  I  said, 
"Would  you  mind  sending  me  a  copy?"   And  he  said,  "Yes,  I'll 
send  you  a  copy."   He  said,  "Furthermore,  you  and  I  have  got 
to  come  to  an  understanding  about  our  relationship  to  this 
university."   He  said,  "You  have  demanded  all  kinds  of  things 
since  you've  been  here.   We've  given  you  more  than  anybody 


has  ever  been  given.   And  each  time  we  give  you  something, 
you  want  two  more."   And  he  said,  "At  some  point  we  have  to 
sit  down  and  decide  what  you  think  you  need,  and  I've  got 
to  tell  you  what  you  can  get  and  what  you  can't  get;  and 
at  that  point,  then  some  fundamental  decisions  have  to  be 
made."   I  said,  "I'd  be  delighted.   You  just  write  me  the 
letter,  tell  me...."   He  said,  "You  write  me  your  letter 
first."   And  I  said,  "I'll  do  it." 

I  went  back  to  Los  Angeles,  and  I  found  a  copy  of  his 
letter,   I  found  phone  calls  from  Pauley  and  Carter  and  I 
don't  know  who.   So  I  put  in  the  phone  calls,  and  they  asked 
me  what  the  problem  was,  and  I  tried  to  tell  them.   I  called 
Tom  Davis,  and  I  told  him,  and  he  was  furious.   That's  when 
Kerr  lost  Davis  forever.   And  I  said,  "Would  you  call  Clark 
and  try  to  convince  him  that  I  haven't  been  using  you,  which 
he  accuses  me  of  doing?"   You  know,  Tom  didn't  like  to  be 
accused  of  being  used  by  anyone.   I  called  Pauley  and  ex- 
plained it  to  Pauley,  and  Pauley  said,  "This  is  ridiculous. 
I'm  going  to  call  Kerr  and  order  him  to  be  there."   And  I 
said,  "Do  whatever  you  want,  Ed. " 
MINK:   He  could,  too. 

MURPHY:   He  did.   What  he  did,  as  I  understand  it,  was  to 
call  two  or  three  other  regents,  tell  them  what  he  was  going 
to  do,  and  urge  them  to  do  the  same.   So  three  days  later, 
Kerr  changed  his  opinion.   In  the  meantime,  Tom  Davis  had 


called  him,  first  of  all  gave  him  hell,  and  finally  said, 
"What  are  we  planning  that  you  don't  want,  you  and  Mrs.  Kerr?" 
Well,  as  it  turned  out,  it  really  wasn't  very  much;  and 
really,  I  think  there  was  a  breakdown  in  communications 
due  to  Bolton.   I  think  Bolton  took  his  role  too  seriously. 
I  think  he  really  was  trying  to  make  points  with  Kerr,  and 
especially  Mrs.  Kerr,  by  in  effect  saying,  "This  is  going 
to  be  your  party."   So,  maybe  to  a  certain  extent,  Clark 
really  was  misinformed.   But  the  misinformation  came  because 
by  that  time  I  don't  think  Kerr  believed  anything  I  said — 
or  thought  there  was  an  ulterior  motive. 

Well,  Charter  Day  came.   The  Kerrs  came.   They  got 
front  billing.   I  introduced  him,  and  that's  the  only  thing 
I  did.   He  did  the  whole  thing.   He  met  the  president  at 
the  helicopter  and  generously  introduced  the  president  to 
me  and  so  forth  and  so  on.   He  led  the  procession.   They 
sat  in  the  center  of  the  table  next  to  the  president  and 
the  Alumni  Association.   I  was  at  one  end,  I  guess,  and  he 
was  at  the  other.   I  didn't  really  care.   Everything  that 
he  could  have  possibly  wanted,  he  had.   But  this  whole 
unnecessary  episode,  reflecting  the  worst  ego  problem,  and 
the  worst  of  the  insecurity,  and  the  worst  of  the  (by  that 
time,  I  think)  deep  resentment  of  my  role  in  the  university/ 
had  surfaced. 

Well,  the  regents'  meeting  was  scheduled  for  not  long 


thereafter  down  here,  and  the  Pauleys  gave  a  dinner  that 
Thursday  night  and  invited  the  chancellors.   By  this  time, 
my  theory  that  the  chancellors  should  be  invited  to  these 
dinners  had  taken  hold;  and,  in  spite  of  Kerr,  the  regents 
just  invited  them.   There  was  nothing  he  could  do  about  it. 
So  this  became  a  built-in  kind  of  tradition,  which  con- 
tinues:  the  chancellors  still  go  to  these  dinners.  Chuck 
tells  me. 

But  during  the  cocktail  hour,  Pauley  came  to  me,  and 
he  said,  "I  want  to  talk  to  you  and  Kerr  alone."   So  he 
took  us  into  another  room,  and  he  said,  "Now,  look.   This 
entire  episode  was  totally  unnecessary."   He  said,  "I  want 
you  to  know  that  the  regents  have  the  highest  respect  for 
you,  Clark."   He  turned  to  me,  and  he  said,  "Franklin,  I 
want  you  to  know  that  the  regents  have  the  highest  respect 
for  you.   They  think  the  two  of  you  are  doing  an  absolutely 
splendid  job.   But  the  two  of  you  have  got  to  stop  this 
feuding."   He  just  scolded  us  like,  you  know,  little  boys. 
Kerr  was  extremely  restless  and  tried  to  break  in  on  several 
occasions,  and  Pauley  said,  "Now,  just  wait  till  I'm  finished." 

So  he  gave  us  quite  a  monologic  spanking  and  encouraged 
us  to  behave  like  adults,  etc.,  etc.   Frankly,  I  thought 
I'd  been  behaving  like  an  adult.   Kerr  had  been  a  child 
about  this  thing,  but  that  didn't  bother  me  any.   And  then 
he  turned  to  me  and  said,  "Now,  are  you  willing  to  try  to 


cooperate?"   I  said,  "Ed,  absolutely."   He  said,  "Clark, 
are  you  willing  to  cooperate  with  Franklin?"   Clark  said, 
"Well,  I  am,  if  he'll  just  cooperate  with  me."   Ed  said, 
"He's  already  said  he  would."   I  said,  "Well,  Ed,  just  one 
moment.   I  want  to  make  it  clear  that  I  shall  always  speak 
up  for  what  I  think  is  proper  administration  in  the  univer- 
sity, and  I'm  going  to  continue  to  fight--f airly ,  I  hope-- 
for  a  situation  where  the  authority  matches  the  responsi- 
bility, which  I  do  not  think  is  currently  the  case." 
"What  do  you  mean?"   So  I  talked  about  appointments  and 
promotions  and  a  few  other  things  like  that. 

And  then  that  was  over,  and  we  went  back  in.   I 
could  tell  Clark  was  absolutely  furious.   He  wasn't  talking 
to  anybody,  least  of  all  me.   He  was  morose  and  quiet  all 
during  the  dinner;  and  as  soon  as  it  was  over,  he  got  up 
abruptly  [snaps  fingers]  and  left. 

MINK:   I  imagine  it  was  hiomiliating  for  him,  as  the  pres- 
ident of  the  university,  to  be  talked  to  in  front  of  a 
subordinate,  which  I'm  sure  he  considered  you  to  be,  by 
his  own  boss,  who  would  be  the  chairman  of  the  Board  of 
Regents . 

MURHPY:   I'm  sure  you're  right.   And  I  suspect  if  I'd  been 
in  his  position  I  would  have  felt  much  the  same.   But  anyway, 
that  was  that  episode. 

Well,  just  to  continue  the  Charter  Day  thing,  by  this 


time,  the  UCLA  event  in  the  spring  had  gained,  as  you  know, 
a  lot  of  momentum.   And  inevitably.  Charter  Day  began  to  be 
a  chore.   Furthermore,  the  problem  of  getting  a  truly  dis- 
tinguished guy  was  getting  more  and  more  difficult.   And  so 
there  was  little  enthusiasm  on  this  campus  for  the  contin- 
uance of  Charter  Day.   By  this  time,  the  regents,  having 
seen  this  kind  of  friction  and  this  kind  of  confrontation, 
which  all  of  them  felt — and  incidentally,  I  think  that  at 
that  point  Clark  Kerr  really  began  his  downhill  thing. 
MINK:   He  began  to  lose  votes. 

MURPHY:   That's  it.   This  childlike  petulance — you  know, 
"I  won't  come  because...."   You  know,  when  they  fully 
realized  that  there  was  no  real  reason  except  a  little 
bruising  of  the  ego. 

MINK:   See,  I  was  wondering  about  other  regents.   You 
always  talk  about  Pauley;  you  always  talk  about  Canaday, 
Forbes  occasionally.  Carter  and  Mrs.  Chandler.   But  what 
about  [Howard  C. ]  Naffziger?   What  about  [William  M.] 

MURPHY:   Well,  Naffziger  was  gone  by  then.   Long  since. 
MINK:   What  about  Roth? 

MURPHY:   Bill  was  kind  of  neutral  in  this  thing.   Ellie 
Heller  was  sort  of  believing  Clark  in  the  beginning,  but  in 
the  middle  and  the  end  it  shifted  because  of  some  of  these 
kind  of  episodes.   But  the  core  of  southern  regents — Carter, 


Pauley,  Canaday,  Forbes,  Tom  Davis;  the  alumni  presidents, 
of  course--Bob  Haldeman  and  those  people  when  they  were 
there. . . . 

MINK:   Simon  hadn't  come  yet? 
MURPHY:   Simon?   Oh,  he  was. 
MINK:   I  believe  he  was  a  regent  in  '60. 
MURPHY:   Simon  became  a  regent  the  year  I  arrived. 
MINK:   Yes,  I  believe  that's  when  he  was  appointed. 
MURPHY:   And  Simon  was  always  with  me  on  these  things, 
always — trying  to  negotiate,  but  still  negotiating  in  my 
behalf.   But  always  supporting  Kerr.   In  other  words,  I 
want  to  make  it  clear  that  in  the  beginning  they  were 
supportive  of  Clark  as  president  but  of  my  view,  too. 
In  other  words,  they  weren't  choosing  between  the  two  of 
us.   That  only  came  after  these  episodes,  down  the  road. 
In  any  event,  to  wind  up  Charter  Day,  it  was  dying 
on  the  vine,  anyway.   And  at  that  point,  Ellie  Heller  and 
some  of  the  others  said,  "Look.   Rather  than  to  have  these 
kinds  of  unnecessary  confrontations,  why  don't  we  just  leave 
it  up  to  the  campuses  whether  they  want  it  or  not?"   We  had 
one  more,  and  I  think  that's  the  last  Charter  Day  we  had. 
MINK:   We  don't  celebrate  it. 

MURPHY:   Yeah.   So  that's  how  Charter  Day  ended. 
MINK:   They  celebrate  it,  I  believe,  on  the  Berkeley  campus. 
MURPHY:   They  do.   It's  a  big  day  in  Berkeley.   Well, 


naturally.   It's  their  equivalent  of  what  we  do  in  the 

MINK:   It's  quite  appropriate  there. 

MURPHY:   Yes,  of  course  it  is.   That  is_  the  foundation  of 
Berkeley.   On  the  other  campuses,  I  don't  know.   I  think 
maybe  they  do,  because  they're  smaller  and  they  don't 
really  have  a  tradition.   I  don't  think  it  means  very  much. 
Okay,  so  much  then  for  the  Charter  Day. 

MINK:   You  said  parenthetically  after  you  talked  about  that 
you  wanted  to  talk  about  the  problems  of  letters  of  appoint- 
ments for  deans  and  so  on. 

MURPHY:   Oh.   [It  was]  one  of  the  things  that  we  had  as  a 
problem  from  the  beginning,  and  it  finally  never  really  got 
solved  for  about  six  years.   It  led  to  all  kinds  of  after- 
math.  And  Andy  Hamilton  can  tell  you  a  lot  about  this. 
They  had  at  Berkeley,  as  a  public  relations  fellow  in  the 
statewide  office,  [a  man]  called  Al  Pickerell. 
MINK:   I  know  Mr.  Pickerell  very  well. 

MURPHY:   Unbelievably  limited,  but  a  slavish  servant,  if 
you  will,  and  always  trying  to  make  points  with  the  boss. 
In  the  beginning,  when  I  was  discovering  how  little  author- 
ity the  chancellor  had,  along  with  his  lack  of  any  real 
authority  in  promotions  or  appointments  was  that  when  they 
were  made  they  were  always  announced  as  follows:   "President 
Clark  Kerr  announces  that  the  Board  of  Regents  has  appointed 


so-and-so  as  such  and  such  at  UCLA."   So  I  started  out  by 
saying,  "It  seems  to  me  the  chancellor  ought  to  make  this. 
So  why  don't  you  let  the  chancellor?"   "Well,  then  what  is 
there  for  the  president  to  do?"   "Well,"  I  said,  "he  can 
announce  the  appointment  by  the  regents  of  chancellors, 
vice-chancellors,  this  and  that." 

Well,  that  was  a  struggle.   No,  he  wouldn't  give  an 
inch.   This  went  on  year  after  year  after  year,  till  finally 
I  got  them  to  agree--and  again  I  think  I  just  wore  them 
down — that  it  would  be  that  President  Clark  Kerr  and 
Chancellor  Franklin  D.  Murphy  announce  the  appointment  of 
such  and  such,  which  seemed  reasonable  to  me,  Kerr  first, 
chancellor  second. 

We  won  that,  and  I  thought  that  whole  nonsense  was  over, 
and  I  assumed  that  that  set  a  pattern.   Andy  sends  up  to 
Berkeley  a  proposed  announcement  for  honorary  degrees  for 
President  Clark  Kerr.   Well,  Pickerell  says  no.   No  way — 
a  university  thing,  only  the  president  can  do  it.   Well, 
Andy  said,  "Look,  we've  set  a  pattern  or  tradition."   "No 
way."   So  we  had  to  fight  that  battle.   I  kept  saying, 
"You  know,  this  is  so  silly.   This  is  ridiculous."   And  they'd 
turn  around  to  me  and  say,  "Of  course  it  is,  so  why  don't  you 
stop  asking?"   I  said,  "It's  ridiculous  from  your  point  of 
view,  but  it's  terrible  important  from  the  campus  point  of 
view,  because  I'm  trying  to  build  a  pride  on  the  campus. 


I've  got  to  let  them  think  down  here,  in  the  Academic 
Senate  and  the  student  body,  that  I  am  more  than  just  a 
housekeeper,  clerk,  locally  situated."   Well,  all  I  can 
say  on  this  subject  is  that  here  again,  [it  was]  something 
that  Kerr  could  have  gracefully  said.   In  fact,  as  I  look 
back,  a  lot  of  these  thing,  he  should  have  taken  on  his  own 
issue  and  said,  "Franklin,  you  know,  traditionally  the 
president  announces  these,  but  I  think  the  chancellor 
ought  to  be  included."   He'd  have  lost  nothing,  you  see, 
because  the  way  it  turned  out,  he  still  loses  nothing;  the 
president  loses  nothing.   And  my  God,  think  what  he  would 
have  gained — not  just  for  me,  but  Mrak  and  everybody  else, 
the  greatest  guy  in  the  world.   Or  call  up  and  say,  "Look. 
You  know,  you  fellows  are  closer  to  the  campus;  I've  got 
lots  of  confidence  in  you;  you're  doing  a  great  job.   I 
think  I'm  going  to  delegate  a  lot  more  of  my  authority  to 
appointments  and  promotions."   You'd  die  for  a  guy  like 

Now,  parenthetically,  I  don't  know,  but  there's  always 
a  possibility  that  Kerr,  in  rational  conversation  with  me 
or  Mrak  or  somebody  else,  might  have  come  to  that  conclu- 
sion on  his  own,  except  for  two  things.  First  of  all,  he 
never  had  time  to  talk  with  the  chancellors  except  once  a 
month  at  these  meetings,  and  that's  no  time.  I  used  to  say 
to  him,  you  know,  "Look,  I'd  like  to  talk  to  you  about  this 


issue  in  depth."   "Well,  I  haven't  got  time;  I'm  going  here 
and  there,"   I'd  say,  "I'll  ride  to  the  airport  with  you." 
"Well,  I'm  sorry,  but  I'm  riding  to  the  airport  with  Harry 
Wellman;  we've  got  things  to  do,"  and  so  on.   He  really 
never  spent  time,  except  with  his  own  staff.   Therefore, 
you  never  had  the  opportunity  to  explain  these  things  in 
any  kind  of  depth.   Secondly,  his  own  staff  vicariously-- 
it's  like  any  other  staff--were  so  possessive  about  the 
power  they  had,  because  since  he  wasn't  there  it  was  all 
delegated,  they  were  doing  these  things. 

MINK:   No  different  than  what  we  saw  in  the  White  House. 
MURPHY:   Precisely.   They  would,  I'm  sure,  tell  him,  "Clark, 
you  can't  do  this,  for  this  and  that  reason."   Well,  Clark 
wasn't  really  doing  it  in  any  event.   They  were  doing  it 
for  him.   So  to  delegate  that  to  the  campus  would  mean 
that  somebody  else  would  do  it  for  him.   And  they  didn't 
want  to  lose  it.   I'm  sure  90  percent  of  the  advice  he  got 
was,  "You  can't  give  that  for  this,  this,  and  this  reason." 

As  I  look  back  on  it,  the  things  that  were  done  did 
not  weaken  the  presidency  one  damn  bit.   It  in  fact  loosened 
up  the  president's  time.   If  he  had  done  many  of  these  things 
of  his  own  volition,  if  it  hadn't  been  dragged,  he  would 
have  had  a  group  of  chancellors,  I  repeat,  that  would  have 
thrown  themselves  on  the  railroad  tracks.   Instead,  he  had 
a  group  of  chancellors,  part  of  whom  were  disappointed  in 


him  in  the  end  and  part  of  whom  were  absolutely  bitter  at 
his  underlings.   And  to  that  extent,  they  were  really 
getting  at  him. 

Well,  it's  just  too  damn  bad,  because  many  of  that 
man's  qualities--his  mind  is  absolutely  first-rate,  and  his 
technique  of  negotiation,  if  properly  applied,  is  really 
just  the  right  thing.   Whatever  these  qualities  were  and 
whatever  the  forces  were  that  made  him  blind  to  the  neces- 
sity of  streamlining  and  modernizing  the  statewide  univer- 
sity— I'm  sure  some  were  personal  and  some  were  pressures 
on  him  of  the  type  I've  described — it's  one  of  the  great 
tragedies  of  my  memory;  because  in  the  end  his  illogic  in 
many  of  these  things,  his  technique  of  trying  to  prevent 
them,  backfired  and  boomeranged.   That  leads  to  an  episode 
about  a  year  before  he  left.   It  was  a  meeting  at  San 

MINK:   A  regents'  meeting? 

MURPHY:   Yes.   It  was  before  the  troubles  in  Berkeley  were 
over,  but  they'd  been  under  way  for  quite  a  while.   Strong 
had  been  fired  and  was  bitter  beyond  expression.   Clark 
had  not  defended  Strong.   Clark  had  tried  to  explain  Strong 
and  his  position.   Strong's  position  and  Clark's  position 
on  how  to  maintain  control  of  the  Berkeley  campus  were  dia- 
metrically opposed.   Strong  wanted  to  take  the  tough  position; 
Kerr  wanted  to  negotiate.   And  here  again  was  this  terrible 


problem  of  having  the  president  acting  de  facto  as  chancellor 
of  Berkeley,   Right  at  the  critical  time  when  Strong  wanted 
to  lay  on  certain  activities,  Kerr  intervened,  and  moved 
in,  and  took  over  the  responsibility  of  settling  the  prob- 
lem from  Strong.   Now,  as  you  know,  his  efforts  to  settle 
were  failure.   In  fact,  they  led  to  more  riotous  behavior, 
which  continued  to  humiliate  the  regents,  anger  them  and 
frustrate  them.   But  Strong  was  the  chancellor.   Here  he 
was  with  the  responsibility  and  none  of  the  authority, 
which  had  been  taken  away  from  him  by  Kerr  and  some  of 
Kerr's  underlings  who  were  supposed  to  run  this,  negotiate 
this.   Then,  when  it  failed,  and  these  riotous  things  got 
even  worse,  where  did  the  criticism  go?   It  went  to  Strong. 
And  the  criticism  was,  "This  weak  man;  we  should  have  known; 
he  never  had  administrative  experience;  and  we  should  have 
known  when  we  put  him  in  that  he  was  not  up  to  the  test." 
And  Ed  was  hearing  things. 

There  was  a  regents'  meeting  at  Davis  one  time.   We 
had  this  dinner  before,  and  after  dinner  the  regents  wanted 
to  talk  to  Strong  about  this.   This  was  about  two  months 
before  he  was  fired.   They  were  really  very  upset,  and  they 
didn't  want  to  do  it  publicly  at  a  regents'  meeting  or  even 
in  closed  session.   They  didn't  want  the  press  to  know 
about  this.   They  did  it  at  this  dinner  the  night  before, 
and  all  we  chancellors  were  there.   Ed  Strong  got  up,  and 


the  regents  really  started  to  go  at  him.   "Why  did  you 
permit  this?   Why  do  you  do  that?"   The  questions  were 
not  just  tough  questions;  they  were  asked  with  rancor  and 
bitterness.   And  Ed  was  defending  himself.   And  finally 
he  said,  "Look,  you  people  don't  understand  something." 
He  said,  "I  didn't  have  any  authority  to  do  this  thing." 
He  said,  "When  I  was  about  ready  to  move,  here's  what  I'd 
planned  to  do,"  and  he  listed  them. 
MINK:   Was  Kerr  there? 

MURPHY:   Yes.   He  said,  "Your  president  moved  in  and  told 
me  that  I  no  longer  would  deal  with  this  problem. "   He 
said,  "I  haven't  had  any  authority  or  responsibility  for 
the  past" — whatever  it  was,  three  weeks,  four  weeks,  five 
weeks — "Clark  Kerr  has  been  doing  it.   Now,  if  these  things 
are  wrong,  ask  the  president  what  went  wrong."   The  heads 
turned.   Kerr  got  angry,  and  he  said,  "Chancellor  Strong, 
that's  not  true  at  all.   You're  chancellor  at  Berkeley. 
It's  your  responsibility  and  still  your  responsibility." 
He  said,  "I've  been  giving  advice."   And  boy,  they  really 
got  into  it.   Ed  said,  "That  isn't  true.   You're  lying,  Mr. 
President.   You  sent  so-and-so  to  do  this,  and  you  told  so- 
and-so  to  do  that,  and  you  countermanded  my  orders  or  so-and- 
so  that  you  sent  countermanded  my  instructions  to  so-and-so." 
MINK:   He  read  it  chapter,  line  and  verse. 
MURPHY:   Yeah,  chapter  and  verse.   And  he  was  red;  Clark 


was  red.   Well,  finally  the  chairman,  whoever  it  was  at 
that  time,  simply  said,  "Okay,  I  think  this  meeting  has  gone 
to  the  point  of  no  return,  negative  returns,  and  we'll  quit." 
Well,  it  was  perfectly  clear  at  that  moment  that  one  or  the 
other  had  to  go.   You  can't  have  a  chancellor  publicly  tel- 
ling the  president  he's  a  liar,  or  implying  it  and  saying 
it,  and  the  president  denying  responsibility.   It  just  isn't 
going  to  work.   And  it  was  my  view,  of  course,  that  Ed 
would  go.   I  talked  to  Ed  afterwards,  and  he  was  shaken. 
He  was  absolutely  shaken.   He  didn't  believe  that  Clark 
would  ever  understand.   He  had  blind,  naive  faith.   In 
subsequent  times  he  said,  "You  know,  if  I'd  only  listened 
to  you" — this  sort  of  thing. 
MINK:   He  had  never  joined  the  club. 

MURPHY:   Oh,  absolutely  not.   This  was  the  terrible  thing 
about  it.   He  was  one  of  Clark's  most  faithful  servants 
in  these  chancellors'  meetings.   And  more  than  once  he  tried 
to  knock  me  down,  in  views  that  I  would  bring  up,  in  support 
of  the  president.   And  then  to  all  of  a  sudden  find  himself 
just  dropped  as  a  sacrificial  goat  was,  needless  to  say, 
bitter  gall  to  him.   Well,  needless  to  say,  he  was  out  in 
a  week  or  two,  and  Martin  Meyerson  came  in.   He  was  an 
interim  chancellor,  remember? 
MINK:   Before  Heyns .   Yes,  that's  right. 
MURPHY:   Martin  Meyerson.   Martin  was  a  close  friend  of 


Clark's,  had  known  him  a  long  time.   Clark  admired  him. 
Martin  was  a  very  capable  fellow.   One  of  the  first  things 
Martin  did  was  to  come  and  ask  me  about  this  whole  thing. 
I  tried  to  explain  it  to  him.   I  said,  "Martin,  now,  you 
are  going  to  be  chewed  up  unless  you've  got  a  very  clear 
iinderstanding  of  your  authority  and  responsibility  here. 
It  destroyed  Ed."   Well,  as  you  know,  Martin  did  what  he 
could.   The  statewide  administration  would  be  in  it  one 
minute  and  out  the  next  minute,  and  Martin  finally  quit 
and  went  off  to  Buffalo.   But  let  me  get  back  to  this. 

So  these  things  had  been  developing  all  along,  and 
as  I  say,  the  regents  were  deeply  distraught  about  this 
Berkeley  thing.   Now,  in  the  meantime,  the  thing  that  infur- 
iated the  statewide  administration  was  when  I  was  present — 
it  was  embarrassing  even  to  me — at  these  meetings.   You  know, 
for  a  year,  the  business  of  the  university  at  regents' 
meetings  practically  was  nonexistent.   All  it  was  involved 
with  was  the  Berkeley  riots.   And  during  this  you  could  just 
see  it  grow  and  grow  and  grow.   The  bitter,  bitter  gall  was, 
repeatedly  they  would  say,  "Well,  why  can't  you  handle  it 
the  way  it's  being  done  at  UCLA?"   And  repeatedly  I'd  be 
asked,  "Chancellor  Murphy,  would  you  please  tell  us  what 
you're  doing  down  there  they  aren't  doing  at  Berkeley?" 
MINK:   Maybe  you'd  like  to  tell  us  now  what  you  were  doing 
that  they  weren't  doing. 


MURPHY:   Well,  in  all  fairness — let  me  come  to  that  in  a 
moment — I  think  the  record  of  the  regents'  minutes  are 
there.   I  never  once  said,  "Well,  if  you'd  only  do  it  our 
way,  you  wouldn't  have  the  problem."   I  repeatedly  said 
to  the  regents,  "Look.   You're  talking  about  apples  and 
oranges."   And  then  I  would  describe  the  difference.   UCLA's 
located  in  Westwood  and  Bel-Air;  the  campus  environment  is 
totally  different.   We  don't  have  the  magnet  in  Southern 
California  that  the  Bay  Area  seems  to  be  for  the  drug  kids 
and  the  runaways  and  the  great  unwashed  who  moved  over 
from--what  do  they  call  that  beach? 
MINK:   North  Beach. 

MURPHY:   North  Beach  to  Berkeley.   We  have  a  very  different 
situation  here  in  terms  of  kinds  of  students. 


TAPE  NUMBER:   III,  Side  2 
OCTOBER  19,  1973 

MURPHY:   In  other  words,  I  would  make  the  point  that  the 
environment  was  totally  different  and  that,  therefore, 
keeping  things  under  control  was  [easier].   We  didn't  have 
the  nonstudent  problem  to  the  extent  that  Berkeley  did. 
And  it  was  always  my  conviction  that  if  they  hadn't  had  that 
nonstudent  crowd  hanging  around  the  periphery  of  the  campus, 
sure,  they'd  have  had  a  few  minor  riots  and  this  and  that, 
but  they'd  never  have  been  able  to  get  the  massive  number  of 
troops.   So  I  just  would  repeat  that.   And  I  don't  think  I 
ever  gave  the  feeling  that — in  fact,  I  think  I  said  on  more 
than  one  occasion,  "You  know,  if  I  were  at  Berkeley,  I  don't 
think  I'd  be  doing  much  better,  because  I  think  you've  got 
an  impossible  problem,  really." 

MINK:   Well,  one  thing  intrigues  me,  and  I  often  have  said 
to  other  people  at  Berkeley:   was  it  ever  seriously  suggested 
that  they  might  simply  put  a  cordon  around  that  campus  and 
make  every  student  that  went  in  and  out  show  his  reg  card? 
Because  really,  it  was  this  hanger-on  group;  you  know,  you 
never  knew  where  they  were.   They  were  right  in  there. 
MURPHY:   Charged  up  with  drugs  and  irrational  and  so  on. 
Well,  I  would  say  this  more  than  once,  while  I'm  afraid 
half  the  regents  were  saying — privately  to  themselves,  of 


course--"Isn' t  he  a  modest  man?"   I  really  meant  what  I 
was  saying.   In  fact,  I  know  some  of  them  would  say,  "Come 
on,  Franklin,  now  really  level.   What  is  the  secret?" 
I'd  say,  "I'm  telling  you  that  if  I  were  at  Berkeley,  I'm 
not  sure  that  things  would  be  a  lot  better.   Maybe  they 
wouldn't  have  started  in  the  first  place,  but  who  knows?" 
But  the  thing,  I'm  sure,  that  became  an  absolutely  intolerable 
echo  in  Clark's  ear  was  this  stuff,  "Well,  why  don't  you  do 
it  like  UCLA?"   And  I  must  say,  had  I  been  in  his  position, 
I  would  have  been  very  bitter,  too. 

MINK:   It  was  ironic,  though,  that  when  it  finally  did  come 
down  to  the  point  that  the  regents  got  too  scared  to  be  on 
any  campus,  it  was  at  UCLA  that  they  got  scared — over  at 
the  Faculty  Center  with  the  windows. 
MURPHY:   Yes,  I  remember. 
MINK:   You  were  there  then? 
MURPHY:   No,  no. 

MINK:   You  had  left  already.   That  was  Chuck's,  then. 
That's  right;  I  guess  so. 

MURPHY:   So  this  thing  kept  building.   It  was  building  on 
the  base  of  a  man  that  had  been  a  little  too  clever  for  him- 
self, anyway.   You  know,  cleverness  is  a  great  thing,  just 
like  rationalization's  a  great  thing,  if  properly  used. 
But  if  [it's]  misused,  then  you  run  the  risk  of  being  dis- 
covered or  caught.   And  some  of  these  things,  like  the  Charter 


Day  episode  and  other  things  that  I  won't  even  bother 
mentioning,  an  accumulation  of  little  things  had  eroded. 

And  then  the  Ed  Strong  thing.   T^d  I  might  add  that 
there  were  a  lot  of  people  on  the  regents  that  liked  Ed 
Strong:   Catherine  Hearst,  I  remember;  Phil  Boyd,  a  regent 
from  Oakland,  an  awfully  nice  man,  a  lawyer  who  subsequently 
left  the  board — they  were  very  fond  of  Ed.   And  after  this 
terrible  episode  at  Davis,  I  haven't  the  slightest  doubt 
that  a  number  of  these  regents  called  him.   I  don't  know 
this  for  a  fact,  but  I  would  just  naturally  assume  it, 
because  they  liked  him,  they  were  close  to  him.   And  I 
haven't  the  slightest  doubt  that  Ed  levelled,  that  Ed  was 
a  very  bitter  man. 

Now,  about  that  time--I  forget  the  exact  dates,  but 
it  was  in  that  time  frame--Kerr  forced  out  John  Saunders, 
who  had  been  one  of  his  most  faithful  servants  in  the 
vineyard.   And  John's  bitterness  knew  no  bounds.   It  still 
is  there. 

MINK:   What  were,  in  a  nutshell,  the  differences  that  arose 

MURPHY:   Well,  I  really  never  knew.   Part  of  it  was,  maybe, 
John's  fault,  but  down  in  the  faculty  there  were  some  divi- 
sions.  There  were  members  of  the  faculty  who  felt  that 
John  was  not  getting  enough  for  them.   I'm  afraid  John  paid 
the  price  of  our  getting  a  lot  for  UCLA  medical  school. 


Remember,  we  doubled  the  size  of  the  hospital  and  so  on 
and  got  really  up  to  par  with  San  Francisco.   They  had  a 
lot  of  demands,  and  ours  came  first.   And  I  think  they 
felt  he  had  not  been  powerful  and  strong  enough,  and  they 
saw  the  UCLA  medical  school  growing  by  leaps  and  bounds 
in  quality  and  reputation  and  size.   I  think  this  led  to 
some  of  the  problems.   John  did  have  a  little  degree  of 
arrogance  about  him  which,  I  suspect,  had  irritated  some 
of  his  faculty.   He  was  a  Scotsman,  you  know,  and  he  talked 
sort  of  down  to  people  occasionally. 

MINK:   I  remember  he  was  the  only  chancellor  who  ever  also 
acted  as  librarian  on  his  campus. 

MURPHY:   Yes.   You  know,  John  and  I  got  along  fine  except 
I  didn't  like  the  way  he  was  totally  nonsupportive  of  me 
at  the  chancellors'  meetings.   He  was  fired.   He  had  some 
friends,  because  that  faculty  at  San  Francisco  medical 
school  was  divided,  and  a  lot  of  them  were  very  fond  of 
John.   And  I  haven't  the  slightest  doubt  that  John  person- 
ally, with  his  close  friends  on  the  regents  plus  members  of 
that  faculty,  got  to  some  of  the  regents  about  Kerr. 

So  his  power  base — or  the  credibility,  I  guess  you'd 
say,  he  had  with  the  regents — was  being  eroded  little  by 
little  all  the  time,  and  then  it  was  enormously  stimulated 
by  this  whole  Berkeley  riotous  behavior.   The  regents  were 
just  beside  themselves.   It  was  a  humiliation  to  them;  it 


was  all  over  the  country.   Berkeley  was  the  prototype, 
and  they  were  hearing  from  their  friends  in  California. 
And  Kerr  seemed  unable  to  do  anything  about  it.   And  I 
must  say  that  things  were  going  pretty  well  on  their  other 
big  campus.   I  don't  think  they  really  accepted  my  explan- 
ation that  the  two  were  very  different  and  they  shouldn't 
compare  them. 

Finally,  this  thing  all  came  to  a  head.   Some  of  the 
regents  had  really  totally  lost  confidence  in  Kerr,  and 
they  wanted  to  get  rid  of  him.   They  wanted  to  fire  him. 
This  was  before  Reagan.   And  there  was  this  meeting  at 
San  Francisco — I  stayed  at  the  Clift  Hotel  whenever  they 
had  meetings--and  I  remember  that  the  regents  were  having 
a  dinner  that  night  in  private.   And  the  thing  that  really 
surprised  me,  as  I  recall  it,  was  that  it  was  so  private 
that  it  was  regents  only,  excluding  the  president.   I 
remember  I  heard  from  somebody,  and  I  can't  recall  why. 
Oh,  I  remember  why:   because  we  had  a  chancellors'  meeting, 
and  Clark  was  there.   So  I  went  back  to  the  Clift  Hotel 
after  dinner,  and  I  was  sitting  in  the  bar  having  a  night- 
cap when  two  regents  came  in,  Mrs.  Chandler  and  one  other. 
I  said,  "Come  on  over.   Join  us  and  have  a  nightcap." 
Mrs.  Chandler  said  something  to  the  effect,  "My  God,  that 
was  an  exhausting  session,"  and  I  innocently  said,  "What's 
the  problem?"   And  she  said,  "Well,  there's  a  movement  afoot 


to  tomorrow  fire  Clark  Kerr."   Well,  I  gasped,  and  I  said, 
"Gee,  I  hope  that  isn't  serious."   She  said,  "Absolutely. 
And  it's  touch  and  go.   There  are  a  group  that  absolutely 
are  determined  that  he  should  go,  and  go  now;  there  are  a 
small  group  that  are  absolutely  determined  he  stay;  and 
then  there's  a  large  group  of  us  in  the  center,  some  of 
whom  move  in  the  direction  of  firing  him  and  others  who 
say,  "Let's  hang  on  a  while  longer!"   And  Mrs.  Chandler 
said,  "What  do  you  think  about  it?"   And  I  said,  "Look, 
you've  got  to  prevent  this  from  happening.   First  of  all, 
firing  Clark  Kerr  is  not  going  to  solve  the  Berkeley  prob- 
lem.  It  can  only  pour  flames  on  the  fire.   You'll  really 
be  in  for  some  trouble.   And  secondly,  who's  going  to  succeed 
him?   Who  wants  to  take  that  job  under  these  circumstances, 
especially  if  Kerr,  who  is  highly  respected  around  the 
country  as  an  educator,  is  fired  under  these  circumstances?" 
I  said,  "Really,  all  of  you  regents  have  got  to  pull  back 
from  the  tree  and  look  at  the  forest.   All  of  the  signs  are 
that  this  is  not  the  time  to  upset  the  applecart."   I  spoke 
with  passion,  and  she  said,  "You  really  feel  this  strongly"; 
and  I  said,  "Look,  I  do."   And  I  said,  "Furthermore,  it'll 
not  just  create  problems  with  Berkeley  and  pour  flames  on 
the  fire;  it  may  create  a  big  fire  for  me  for  a  while.   And 
I'm  not  anxious  to  have  a  fire." 

And  I  remember  the  other  person — I  forget  who  it  was — 


said,  "Well,  we  thought  you  would  think  this  was  a  good 
idea."   I  said,  "Why?"   "Well,  because  of  your  differences 
with  Kerr."   (By  this  time,  it  had  become  famous  within 
the  regents.)   I  said,  "You  know,  nobody  understands  my 
differences  with  Kerr.   I  don't  dislike  Clark  Kerr.   He's 
not  ray  best  friend,  but  he's  not  my  enemy.   I  want  to  see 
him  succeed.   You  must  understand  that  my  differences  are 
not  with  Clark  Kerr;  my  differences  are  really,  in  a  sense, 
with  the  regents,  who  haven't  had  the  wisdom  and  understanding 
to  change  the  system  of  administration  of  this  university 
to  make  it  workable."   So  we  talked  about  that  for  a  while 
longer,  and  then  I  said,  "Well,  I  hope  I've  convinced  you 
that  you  should  vote  against  his  firing.   As  a  matter  of 
fact,"  I  said,  "I  hope  I've  convinced  you  that  you  don't 
even  bring  this  issue  up,  because  if  you  do,  it's  bound  to 
leak  out.   Just  convince  the  negatives  that  if  they  do 
bring  it  up,  they're  going  to  be  beaten  anyway,  and  there's 
no  purpose  in  doing  it."   And  she  said  yes,  and  the  other 
person  said  yes.   I  said,  "Now,  tell  me,  who  might  be  influ- 
ential in  this?"   Mrs.  Chandler  said  Norton  Simon  might  be. 
I  said,  "Where  is  he  staying?"   Well,  nobody  knew,  so  I 
called  up  Marge  Woolman,  and  I  finally  discovered  he  was 
staying  at  the  St.  Francis.   I  woke  him  up  at  midnight  and 
said,  "Look,  I've  got  to  see  you  before  the  regents'  meeting." 
So  we  arranged  to  meet  for  breakfast.   In  fact,  I  told 


him  I'd  drive  him  out.   (I  had  a  rented  car.)   So  I  really 
gave  it  to  him,  too — in  those  days,  we  were  great  friends-- 
and  on  the  same  grounds.   But  he  kept  saying,  "But  we  can't 
trust  him."   And  I  said,  "Look,   There  are  a  lot  of  people 
in  the  world  who  have  techniques  of  administration,  and  you 
have  to  understand  them.   It  isn't  a  question  of  trust; 
it's  a  question  of  understanding."   But  I  said,  "Be  that 
as  it  may,  you  cannot  put  personal  feelings  into  this  matter. 
This  is  a  very  sensitive  issue,  and  it's  like  you  throw  a 
stick  of  dynamite  into  the  whole  statewide  university  prob- 

Well,  then  he  asked  me  to  talk  to  Phil  Boyd.   I  grabbed 
Phil  Boyd  prior  to  the  meeting — in  fact,  the  meeting  started 
without  Phil — and  I  convinced  Phil.   Phil  is  a  bit  of  a 
conservative,  and  he  was  just  livid  about  the  inability  of 
Clark  to  stop  this  nonsense.   And  he  was  one  who  always 
thought  that  I  was  being  modest  when  I  said  it  was  a  dif- 
ferent thing.   So  I  don't  know  what  would  have  happened  in 
any  event.   All  I  know  is  that  these  three  people,  and 
others,  pleaded  with  the  regents  not  even  to  raise  this, 
and  it  wasn't  raised.   So  we  got  over  that  hurdle. 

I  went  home  from  that  meeting  really  shaken,  because 
I  knew  that  there  was  some  friction  between  Clark  and  the 
regents;  but  I  had  no  feeling  that  it  was  so  deep,  that 
there  was  the  slightest  possibility  of  his  being  removed 


from  office.   So  I  decided  that  this  was  one  I  could  not 
tell  Clark.   If  he  and  I  had  had  a  relationship,  he  was 
the  first  one  I'd  have  gone  to,  but  I'm  sure  he  would  have 
been  bitter  about  the  fact  that  I  had  enough  influence  to — 
you  know.   Because  at  that  point  I  had  more  influence  than 
he  did,  and  that's  a  humiliating  thing  for  a  proud  man  to 
have  to  realize. 

So  I  went  to  Harry  Wellman.   I  had  my  differences  with 
Harry,  I  must  say,  early  on.   But  I  came,  in  the  end,  to 
have  the  most  enormous  respect  for  Harry  Wellman.   He  was 
loyal  to  Clark,  and  he  did  do  Clark's  bidding,  but  at  the 
same  time  Harry  intuitively  understood  my  problem.   And  as 
this  thing  evolved,  toward  the  end  Harry  really  was  helpful 
in  getting  some  of  these  administrative  modifications.   So, 
starting  from  that  bitter  moment  when  he  gave  me  hell  in 
the  Bel-Air  Hotel,  where  the  relationship  was  below  zero, 
it  wound  up  like  150  percent.   And  I  was  the  one  who  insis- 
ted that  he  get  his  honorary  degree  at  UCLA  when  he  retired. 
I  went  to  Harry  Wellman,  and  I  said,  "Harry,  I'm  going  to 
tell  you  a  story  you  won't  believe;  but  I  think  the  record's 
clear,  I've  always  told  you  the  truth.   You'll  understand 
why  I  can't  tell  Clark.   You  know  what  our  relationship  is, 
and  you'll  understand  how  it  would  make  it  even  worse." 
Then  I  told  him  this  whole  story.   He,  needless  to  say, 
was  shocked,  too.   And  he,  at  first,  couldn't  believe  it. 


and  I  said,  "Harry,  it  is  a  fact,  you  have  my  word  of 

honor.   It  is  that  close  now." 

MINK:   When  was  this?   Right  after  the  meeting? 

MURPHY:   I  think  I  got  him  before  I  went  home  to  Los 

Angeles.   And  he  said,  "What '11  we  do?"   And  I  said,  "Well, 

first  of  all,  I  think  you've  got  to  tell  Clark  to  get  the 

hell  out  of  the  Berkeley  thing.   He's  got  to  stop  being 

chancellor  at  Berkeley,  both  for  his  own  good  and  for  the 

good  of  the  university.   He  shouldn't  have  ever  tried  to 

be  that,  de  facto,  anyway.   But  now  his  whole  career's  at 

stake.   And  you've  got  to  get  Clark  going  all  out,  all  out 

to  get  a  new,  fresh,  strong  face,  if  possible,  from  outside 

the  university  to  come  in  and  be  the  Berkeley  chancellor  and 

run  Berkeley.   Now,  let  him  take  the  full  responsibility; 

if  the  campus  burns  up,  well,  it's  his.   But  Kerr  here  is 

in  and  out,  in  and  out,  in  a  difficult  situation,  and  he's 

getting  the  blame."   "Well,"  he  says,  "you  know,  we're 

looking."   I  said,  "The  hell  you  are.   You're  just  not 

looking  hard  enough.   Because  I  think  that  Clark  has  from 

the  very  beginning  wanted  to  be  both  chancellor  and  president. 

And  you  know  that,  Harry,  in  your  heart.   This  is  the  Sproul 

image . " 

MINK:   But  the  thing  is.  Dr.  Murphy,  at  this  point,  who 

could  they  have  gotten  at  Berkeley? 

MURPHY:   Well,  now,  wait  a  minute.   I'm  a  year  ahead.   I 


think  it  must  have  been  two  years.   Let  me  go  on.   It  had 
to  be  two  years  when  this  thing  happened  in  San  Francisco. 
Shortly  thereafter,  the  search  for  the  Berkeley  chancellor 
really  got  going,  and  I  finally  got  a  call  from  Harry 
Wellman.   The  regents'  meeting  that  particular  month  coming 
up  was  at  Berkeley.   Things  had  sort  of  quieted  down,  but 
you  know,  it  was  still  reasonably  riotous.   And  he  said, 
"We've  got  a  man  out  here  who's  coming  out  to  meet  with  the 
regents,  and  he  is  absolutely  the  man,  Franklin,  if  we  can 
get  him.   And  he  says  he  wants  to  talk  to  you  above  every- 
body else.   His  name  is  Roger  Heyns .   He's  vice-president 
of  the  University  of  Michigan.   He's  just  the  thing  the 
doctor  ordered — experienced,  low-key,  quiet  but  tough  and 
firm,  and  a  really  adult,  mature  person."   I  said,  "Well, 
why  does  he  want  to  talk  to  me?   I  don't  know  him."   "Well, 
that's  all  I  can  report,  that  that's  what  he  said  in  advance, 
Would  you  be  willing  to  meet  him?"   I  said,  "Harry,  if  you 
want,  I'll  go  anywhere,  because  we've  got  to  quiet  this 
Berkeley  thing  down.   It's  hurting  the  whole  university, 
including  UCLA,  in  the  legislature.   Right  now  my  number-one 
target  in  priority  is  not  more  money  for  UCLA,  but  a  damned 
good  chancellor  at  Berkeley — because  there  won't  be  any 
money  to  divide  up.   I'll  go  anywhere,  do  anything."   And 
so  it  was  arranged  that  I  was  to  meet  with  Roger  at  break- 
fast Wednesday  morning.   I  was  to  come  up  early — have  lunch 


with  him;  that  was  it.   Then  he  was  to  meet  with  the 
chancellors  Wednesday  night;  then  he  was  to  meet  with 
the  regents  Thursday  morning  at  breakfast,  etc.,  etc. 

So  I  promptly  got  on  the  phone  and  started  calling 
my  friends  around  the  country  about  Roger  Heyns .   I'd 
never  met  him;  I  didn't  even  know  the  name.   And  I  managed 
to  get  hold  of  some  people,  some  of  my  Big  Ten  president 
friends — Meredith  Wilson  and  people  like  that--who  had 
worked  with  Roger  and  knew  him;  and  all  the  word  that  came 
back  was  150  percent  positive.   "If  you  can  get  him,  God, 
you're  terribly  lucky."   Then  I  said,  "Well,  why  in  the 
world  would  Roger  want  to  come  and  take  this  job?"   Remem- 
ber, at  that  time  Berkeley  was  in  every  newspaper.   Well, 
as  it  turned  out — it  sounded  Pollyannish,  but  as  it  turned 
out  it  was  really  true — one  of  the  reasons  was  he  was  intri- 
gued by  this  challenge.   He  couldn't  believe  that  a  dis- 
tinguished university  such  as  Berkeley  could  get  into  this 
kind  of  a  mess.   He ' s  a  trained  psychologist;  that's  his 
PhD.   It  absolutely  intrigued  him  in  terms  of  the  possi- 
bility of  solving  this  problem.   That  was  only  one.   Another 
one  was,  it  seemed  clear — and  my  Big  Ten  friends  told  me 
this — that  for  a  lot  of  reasons,  internal  political  reasons 
at  the  university,  that  he  was  not  going  to  be  the  successor 
to  Harlan  Hatcher,  who  I  think  was  going  to  retire  that 
year  as  president.   That  was  a  good  time  for  him  to  move. 


And  finally,  as  I  subsequently  learned,  his  wife  wanted 
to  leave  Ann  Arbor  for  personal  reasons. 

Armed  with  this  telephoned  information,  I  decided  to 
do  the  recruitment  effort  of  my  life,  and  I  decided  to  do 
it  this  way.   I  decided  to  tell  Roger  all  the  bad  things, 
tell  him  how  really  bad  they  were  administratively  when  I 
came  but  how  successful  I'd  been,  really  working  with  the 
regents  in  solving  these  problems — how  successful  I  thought 
I'd  been.   Then  I  decided  to  talk  to  him  about  the  great 
opportunity.   Berkeley  couldn't  go  any  lower;  he  had  to 
go  out  a  hero  because  nobody  could  do  worse.   And  finally 
I  decided  to  advise  him  as  to  some  of  the  conditions. 
MINK:   That  he'd  have  to  make  in  accepting  the  job. 
MURPHY:   Yes,  right.   So  that's  the  way  it  went.   I  told 
him  of  the  dark  old  days  down  here  and  how  things  had  changed. 
Of  course,  he'd  gotten  all  this  word  that  I'd  gotten  earlier: 
that  you  have  no  authority  and  the  faculty  runs  the  show 
and  so  forth.   I  told  him  how  that  really  wasn't  true,  how 
you  could  work  with  the  faculty  and  how  you  could  develop 
a  very  successful  technique.   I  told  him  how  marvelous  the 
regents  were,  which  in  my  view  was  true;  and  I  told  him  the 
problems  I  had  had  with  Kerr,  quite  frankly,  and  the  prob- 
lems I  had  getting  the  other  chancellors  to  come  along. 
But  I  said,  "Look,  Roger,  Emil's  beginning  to  come  along 
and  some  of  the  others.   McHenry  never  will,  but  we've  got 


a  few  fellows  up  there,  and  with  you  in  there  we  can 
just  move  this  thing."   And  I  told  him  what  the  targets 
were:   the  chancellors'  authority  for  appointment  and 
promotion,  much  more  budgetary  f lexibility--how  close 
we  were  to  that,  so  forth  and  so  on.   And  with  him,  we'd 
be  over  the  hump. 

MINK:   What  did  you  suggest  were  the  conditions? 
MURPHY:   I'm  getting  to  that.   I  said,  "Roger,  let  me 
just  say  that  you're  really  down  to  one  problem.   But," 
I  said,  "the  reason  it  isn't  insoluble  is  the  regents  now 
understand,  because  they  didn't  six  or  seven  years  ago. 
The  number-one  problem  is  that  there  hasn't  been  a  chan- 
cellor, there  hasn't  been  anyone  running  the  Berkeley 
campus,  since  Bob  Sproul — who  was  de  facto  president  of 
the  Berkeley  campus.   But  in  this  evolution,  Kerr,  when 
he  was  chancellor  for  a  year  or  two,  had  damned  little 
authority,  none  at  all.   Sproul  wouldn't  give  it  to  him. 
And  Kerr  has  not  given  it  to  anybody.   I  fear  he's  wanted 
sycophants."   I  said,  "The  symbolism  is  that  empty  house. 
And  I  think  that  unless  you  take  a  commitment  (it's  sym- 
bolic) that  the  chancellor  must  live  in--and  rename  it 
not  the  president's  house,  the  chancellor's  house;  the 
University  House  is  the  way  they  compromised — live  in 
the  University  House  on  the  campus,  don't  take  the  job. 
Furthermore,  say  that  you  not  only  want  the  commitment 


that  you  will  live  in  that  University  House,  which  has  been 
empty,  used  only  for  social  stuff,  since  the  Sprouls  left 
it — believe  it  or  not,  it  was  empty  all  those  years--but 
that  you  want  an  adequate  budget  to  fix  it  up,  because  I 
can  tell  you  by  having  been  up  there  at  the  social  events 
and  so  on,  it  is  a  disaster.   It  needs  a  new  kitchen;  it 
needs  a  new  this;  it  needs  new  furniture  and  so  on." 
"Well,  how  much  is  that  going  to  cost?"   I  said,  "You'd 
better  say  that  you  need  at  least  $100,000."   "That's  a 
lot  of  money,"  he  said.   "You  could  build  a  house  for  that." 
I  said,  "Not  a  house  that  big.   But  you've  got  to  spend 
that.   But  even  if  you  could  build  a  house,  even  if  they'd 
give  you  a  half  a  million  to  build  a  house,  you  say,  'No, 
it's  that  house.'   Because  that's  the  house  that  Bob  Sproul 
lived  in,  and  that's  going  to  say  something  to  this  campus. 

"Secondly,"  I  said,  "you  say  that  you  want  an  adequate 
budget  for  entertainment  and  to  do  the  kinds  of  things  in 
that  house  that  ought  to  be  done. 

"Thirdly,  you  say  that  you  want  the  regents  to  care- 
fully look  into  and  consider  the  role  of  the  chancellor 
in  molding  the  faculty,  and  when  they  ask  you  to  define 
that  you  will  say  the  role  and  responsibility  of  the  chan- 
cellor, the  authority  of  the  chancellor,  in  the  promotion 
and  appointment  process. 

"Finally,"  I  said,  "you  tell  them  that  you  want  an 


office  on  campus  that  is  adequate  to  the  responsibilities 
of  the  head  of  one  of  the  largest  and  most  prestigious 
university  campuses  in  America."   "Well,  why  do  I  say  that?" 
"You  should  have  seen  the  office  that  was  available  to 
Strong  and  Glenn  Seaborg.   It  was  a  cubbyhole,  an  absolute 
cubbyhole.   Across  the  street  they  built  this  new  statewide 
building,  and,  my  God,  you  could  play  handball  in  some  of 
those  offices.   But  the  Berkeley  chancellor  had  a  little 
rabbit  warren.   You  say  that  you  want  them  to  put  in  the 
building  plans  for  the  Berkeley  campus  to  move  that  other 
stuff  out  and  give  the  chancellor's  suite  a  great  deal  more. 
You  say  that  after  you  look  at  it.   But  you'll  have  that 
reaction.   Demand  to  look  at  it."   But  I  said,  "Look, 
you're  going  to  get  all  these  things  from  the  regents. 
You  just  ask  for  them  and  you're  going  to  get  them. 
They're  desperate.   You're  in  a  leverage  position."   (At 
this  point  we'd  become  very  friendly.   Roger  and  I  hit  it 
off  the  minute  we  met.)   I  said,  "Furthermore,  let  me  play 
a  role  in  the  scenario.   I'm  going  to  go  back  to  Wellman 
and  to  Kerr  and  to  the  regents,  and  I'm  going  to  say, 
'My  God,  I've  never  seen  such  a  man.   He's  made  for  the 
job.   And  I  don't  think  there's  any  way  you  can  get  him. 
He's  not  accustomed  to  this  kind  of  administrative  structure, 
Maybe  if  you  offered  him  the  house;  I  don't  know.   You 
think  he's  going  to  move  into  an  office  like  that?   I  don't 


think  you've  got  a  ghost  of  a  chance  to  get  him. '"   So 
that's  the  way  it  went. 

We  had  lunch,  and  then  we  met  with  the  chancellors. 
And  very  innocently  we  talked  about  some  business--the 
chancellors  and  the  president;  Harry  Wellman  was  always 
there — very  innocently.   And  Clark  said,  "Well,  Roger, 
you've  seen  how  we  operate  here.   Have  you  got  any  thoughts 
for  the  good  of  the  cause?"   Roger  said,  "Well...."   He 
sort  of  made  a  general  opening  statement;  he  said,  "I'm 
a  little  puzzled  as  to  how  this  all  operates.   I  heard 
Franklin  here  raise  questions  about  promotions  and  appoint- 
ments and  whether  or  not  some  of  these  could  be  delegated. 
What's  that  all  about?"   Well,  there  was  an  attempt  made 
to  explain  this  to  Roger,  and  he  said,  "Gee,  I  don't  under- 
stand that.   I  must  say,  that  puzzles  me."   Well,  this  con- 
versation went  on. 

Then  he  met  with  the  regents.   Roger's  much  lower- 
key  than  I  am.   He's  a  real  soft  kind  of  a  person,  but 
steel  underneath.   Well,  needless  to  say,  he  made  these 
conditions,  laid  them  down  mildly.   Every  single  one  was 
granted.   And  he  came.   What's  his  wife's  name,  that  lovely 
little  girl? 
MRS.  MURPHY:   Esther. 

MURPHY:   Esther.   They  arrived.   You  know,  when  I  got  here, 
at  least  there  was  Hansena  Frederickson,  who  had  some  back- 


ground  in  where  all  of  the  things  were,  you  know.   He 
arrived  and  there  was  no  such  person  around. 
MINK:   What  about  Agnes  Robb?   She  was  still  in  there 
sort  of  as  secretary  to  Sproul. 

MURPHY:  Yes,  precisely.  She  was  doing  Sproul ' s  work  and 
so  on,  and  really,  she  was  Sproul ' s  secretary.  No,  there 
was  nobody  there  like  Hansena.  Sproul  hadn't  been  around 
all  these  years. 

MINK:   That's  right.   But  she  knew  where  the  bodies  were 

MURPHY:   Well,  sure  she  knew  that,  but  you  know,  all  these 
things  that  happened  in  the  interim,  she  didn't  know  any- 
thing about.   So  Roger  called  me  up,  and  he  said,  "God, 
I  haven't  got  anybody  up  here  to  give  me  advice  on  little 
things.   I'm  getting  busy  on  trying  to  find  the  vice- 
chancellor  and  this  and  this  and  this--I  know  how  to  do 
that — but,"  he  said,  "Esther  and  I  don't  know  anything 
about  whether  there's  an  entertainment  budget,  where  is 
it,  how  do  you  use  it,  vouchers — you  know,  all  these 
things."   I  said,  "Roger,  don't  talk  to  anybody  up  there 
about  that.   Don't  talk  to  them  at  all.   When  is  the  earliest 
time  that  you  and  Esther  can  get  on  the  plane  and  come 
down  here  and  spend  a  day  with  Judy  and  me — we'll  have 
dinner  and  all  that — and  Hansena  Frederickson?   Because 
I'm  going  to  give  Hansena  to  you.   She's  dealt  with  this 


statewide  crowd  for  all  these  years;  she's  seen  the 
struggles  I've  gone  through."   We  had  built  up  a  system 
and  it  was  working  perfectly.   So--remember ,  Judy?-- 
they  came  down.   I  had  briefed  Hansena  and,  I  think. 
Chuck  and  maybe  Art  Eddy  as  to  how  we'd  managed  all  these 
logistical  things;  and  I  had  them  type  it  out,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  I  think,  and  they  took  notes.   I  think  we  had 
dinner  together  or  something,  and  they  went  back.   Well, 
that  got  them  going. 

I  also  suggested  they  get  in  touch  with  certain 
regents  in  San  Francisco  to  pick  out  a  decorator,  because 
I  just  didn't  want  them  talking  to  that  statewide  group-- 
because  I  knew  that  there  was  deep  resentment  that  Roger 
was  moving  into  that  house;  I  knew  that  there  was  deep 
resentment  that  Roger  felt  he  had  to  have  a  bigger  office 
suite,  and  they  they  would  figure  out  all  ways  and  means 
to  slow  this  down.   Now,  maybe  I  was  being  unfair  to  those 
people.   But  after  all,  I  have  to  deal  with  the  track 
record.   And  I  didn't  believe  that  leopards  change  their 
spots  that  quickly. 

Well,  I'm  happy  to  say  that — you  know,  Roger  was  smart 
and  so  on — they  got  the  thing  going;  the  house  was  remodeled, 
I  think  very  nicely,  considering  the  size  and  character  of 
the  house,  a  very  wonderful  kitchen  and  new  furniture  and 
all.   The  regents  got  a  special  item  in  the  budget  that  was 


already  gone  in  to  remodel,  move  things  over,  and  so  forth 
and  so  on. 

Well,  from  the  moment  Roger  arrived,  the  big  push 
was  under  way  to  finally  get  the  authority  and  responsi- 
bility to  the  chancellors.   I  now  had,  as  part  of  this 
effort,  a  gifted,  strong,  experienced  man  who  was  not 
brainwashed  by  the  University  of  California  system,  had 
not  grown  up  in  it,  as  I  had  been.   And  we  had,  Roger 
and  I,  we  now  had  Emil  coming  along,  we  had  Dan  Aldrich 
at  this  point  trying  to  build  this  new  campus  and  infur- 
iated with  these  second- level  bureaucrats.   We  really, 
in  the  end,  had  everybody--except  McHenry,  who  I  think  to 
the  very  bitter  end  said,  "Yes,  sir;  no,  sir,"  to  whatever 
Clark  wanted.   And  the  question  went  on;  I'll  just  say  it 
did,  without  going  through  all  the  exercises. 

Oh,  I  must  say  in  all  fairness,  I  said,  "Roger, 
there's  one  thing  that  maybe  we  won't  agree  upon.   But  I 
hope  we  can."   I  said,  "One  thing  that  is  outstanding 
here  is  equity  between  Berkeley  and  Los  Angeles."   I  said, 
"I  don't  want  it  at  the  expense  of  Berkeley.   I  never  have. 
I  want  Berkeley  to  have  precisely  what  Berkeley  thinks  it 
needs.   But  I  think  given  the  mandate  of  the  regents  and 
so  on,  Los  Angeles  ought  to  have  precisely  what  it  needs, 
and  it  needs  about  what  Berkeley  needs."   He  said,  "I  have 
no  trouble  with  that,  no  argument.   Let's  work  together 


to  get  more  for  both. "   So  even  on  the  library--over  and 
over  again  we'd  get  the  commitment  and  then  they'd  pull 
the  rug  out,  and  we'd  have  to  go  back--Roger  was  always 

So  Roger  and  I  were  on  the  phone  together  a  couple 
of  times  a  week,  and  we  really  set  the  campaign.   The 
first  target  was  to  get  the  budget  flexibility,  and  we 
got  it--transfer  between  budget  items  and  so  on  and  so 

forth,  without  checking  with  the  Berkeley  bureaucrats. 
Now,  maybe  it  isn't  totally  satisfactory — I  guess  you'd 
have  to  talk  to  Chuck  about  that — but  it's  so  much  different 
than  it  was  when  we  started  out  that  you  wouldn't  recognize 
the  two  systems . 

The  second  thing  we  got  that  we  decided  that  we  really 
had  to  break  the  back  of  was  the  appointment  and  promotion 
thing.   And  here  Kerr  really  shone  at  his  Machiavellian 
best.   I  think  in  retrospect  this  was  another  nail  in  the 
coffin.   And  I  take  no  satisfaction  in  telling  you  this. 
These  are  facts.   We  started  on  this  at  the  chancellors' 
meetings,  and  by  this  time  Kerr  realized  that  it  just 
wasn't  Murphy,  but  it  was  Murphy  and  Heyns  and  Mrak  and 
[Ivan]  Hinderaker  and  all  of  us. 

MINK:   Did  Ivan  come  in  earlier,  or  was  he  one  of  the  last 
to  come  in? 
MURPHY:   He  was  sort  of  toward  the  end. 


MINK:   He  was  a  UCLA  grad. 

MURPHY:   Yes.   Ivan  was  never  a  sycophant  to  Clark.   I 
just  would  say  that  Ivan  was  a  little  slower  getting  into 
the  fray.   The  leadership  in  the  thing  in  the  beginning, 
in  this  last  push,  was  Heyns  and  Mrak  and  Murphy.   The 
others  came  in  as  the  momentum  grew. 

Well,  on  this  promotion  and  appointment  thing,  it 
was  fascinating.   Our  theory  was  that  the  senate  process 
was  a  problem,  but  we  had  to  tell  the  senate  committees 
they  were  advisory.   That's  what  the  rules  read.   They  had 
developed  a  common-law  practice  of  thinking  this  was 
final,  and  it  wasn't.   We  worked  with  them  and  so  on. 
And  each  campus  would  have  the  right  to  fashion  its  own 
senate  mechanism.   Just  because  Berkeley  said  the  dean 
couldn't  sit  in  at  the  ad  hoc  committee,  Los  Angeles  might 
have  it,  and  that  this  could  be  local  option.   We  wanted 
that,  number  one. 

Number  two,  when  the  decisions  were  made  within  the 
budget  reports,  they  would  go  the  the  chancellor;  the 
chancellor  would  approve  or  reject  as  the  case  may  be. 
But  there  was  no  appeal  to  his  rejection,  around  him  to 
Kerr.   And  if  it  were  positive  all  the  way  through,  the 
president  would  simply  deliver  to  the  regents  the  chancellor's 
recommendations  without  comment.   This  was  our  proposal. 
In  the  case  of  administrative  officers — dean,  that  is; 


vice-chancellors — the  president  would  play  a  role.   It 
would  be  a  recommendation  to  the  president,  a  rejection 
or  acceptance,  and  the  president  would  then  say,  "These 
are  my  recommendations." 

Well,  we  tugged  and  squirmed  and  fought  and  so  forth, 
and  Clark  suddenly  realized  that  he  had  the  entire  group 
of  chancellors,  except  for  McHenry ,  for  this;  and  by  this 
time,  he  was  an  embattled  man.   And  he  knew  that  his  standing 
with  the  regents  was  insecure.   Whether  Wellman  ever  reported 
that  thing  to  him  or  not,  I  don't  know;  but  I  suspect 
Harry  did  indirectly,  leaving  my  name  out  of  it.   So  he 
decided  to  pull  a  typical  Kerr  thing.   I  guess  it  was 
after  several  of  these  meetings.   He  finally  said,  "Look. 
The  recommendation  must  go  directly  from  the  chancellor 
to  the  regents,  because  the  president  can't  merely  forward. 
The  act  of  forwarding  implies  approval.   And  this  means 
that  you're  asking  the  president  to  imply  that  he's  approved 
something  that  he  might,  in  fact,  disapprove.   The  only 
thing  that  possibly  could  be  presented  for  discussion  of 
the  regents  is  a  direct  approach." 

Well,  he  assumed  that  the  regents  would  not  tolerate 
that,  and  that  it  would  have  to  be  presented  to  the  president 
for  mechanical  and  other  reasons,  and  that  therefore  the 
regents  would  say,  "Well,  there's  a  problem  here,  but  take 
it  back  and  study  it  further."   It  was  a  delaying  tactic. 


He  was  so  confident  that  this  is  what  would  happen  that 
he  presented  it.   To  his  amazement,  and  certainly  to  mine, 
the  regents  debated  this  back  and  forth  and  back  and  forth 
and  finally  moved--I  was  at  the  meeting--that  even  the 
regents  didn't  have  to  deal  with  it.   The  chancellors 
could  make  the  final  decision  and  write  the  letter  and  say, 
"You're  appointed."   Well,  by  God,  we  walked  out  of  that 
meeting  with  more  than  we'd  thought  we'd  have. 

Now,  I  think  Clark  was  absolutely  stunned,  and  I 
must  say  I  was  stunned.   But  again,  Clark  should  have 
realized  there  was  some  symbolism  here  for  him  personally, 
which  I  realized  later.   In  effect,  the  regents  were  saying, 
"Well,  you  know,  the  president's  rather  irrelevant  in  this 
process.   The  chancellor's  the  one  we  must  rely  on.   We're 
relying  on  Roger  Heyns  at  Berkeley;  we're  relying  on  Roger 
to  solve  that  problem.   We're  relying  on  Franklin  to  keep 
the  UCLA  campus  quiet.   They've  done  a  good  job.   They  need 
this.   And  they  need  this  strength  because  of  the  Berkeley 
riots.   And  people  don't  realize  this,  and  I  think  Clark  to 
this  day  doesn't  realize  the  fact  that  what  the  Berkeley 
riots  did  was  subconsciously  prove  to  the  regents  that  the 
one  thing  they  needed  was  a  strong  chancellor  forever. 
And  the  president  could  be  just  a  bureaucrat.   So  at  that 
point,  the  regents  subconsciously  were  seeking  at  every 
turn  to  strengthen  the  office  of  the  chancellorship.   They 


didn't  even  know  they  were  doing  that,  but  that's  really 
what  they  were  doing,  and  that's  one  of  the  lessons  of 
these  Berkeley  riots. 

Well,  we  got  this  through  in  an  unbelievable  fashion. 
This  was  in  the  last  year  of  Clark's  tenure.   So  we  were 
really  beginning  now  to  get  what  we  wanted,  and  even  the 
statewide  administration  bureaucrats  were  beginning  to 
listen  to  us. 

MINK:       This   would   have   been    '68. 
MURPHY:       Yes,     '68    or    '67. 
MINK:       Sixty-seven,    yes. 

MURPHY:   Even  the  statewide  bureaucrats  were  getting  the 
image  here  that  the  chancellors  were  strong  people  in  this 
system  and  that  they  were  having  more  influence  on  issues 
than  the  president.   So  I  suddenly  discovered  dulcet  tones, 
you  know.   You  know:   "How  are  things  going,  Franklin?" 
and  "Anything  we  can  do?"   You  know,  this  sort  of  thing. 
Well,  Clark,  at  that  point,  I  think  something  was  happening 
to  him.   I've  never  known,  really.   Because  in  the  summer 
of  that  year,  I  got  a  phone  call  from  Harry  Wellman,  who 
said  he  wanted  to  come  down  and  talk  to  me.   He  came.   He 
said,  "I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  Clark.   We  haven't 
talked  about  Clark  since  you  related  to  me  this  thing  in 
San  Francisco."   But  he  said,  "You  know  the  regents  well, 
and  you  know  the  climate  well,  and  you  know  Southern 


California  well.   You  think  Clark's  in  real  trouble?" 
And  I  said,  "Harry,  he's  in  very  real  trouble,  maybe  not 
of  his  own  making  entirely.   He  bears  the  burden  of  the 
Berkeley  thing,  because  he  insisted  on  getting  in  the 
middle  of  it.   Reagan  is  running  for  office;  one  of  his 
campaign  planks  is  that  he's  going  to  clean  up  Berkeley 
and  stop  this  riotous  behavior.   And  I  must  tell  you 
frankly  that  Clark's  credibility  with  the  regents  has 
been  substantially  eroded.   And  you  know  the  reasons, 
Harry. " 

He  said,  "Yes,  I'm  afraid  I  do."   He  said,  "What 
should  and  can  Clark  do?"   "Well,"  I  said,  "I  don't  know. 
I  think  one  thing  has  already  been  done.   The  responsibility 
for  the  Berkeley  problem  is  now  with  Roger,  and  I  urge  you 
to  keep  Clark  out  of  it  if  there's  another  big  flare." 
I  said,  "I  think  he  really  ought  to  be  more  understanding 
as  to  what  we  chancellors  have  been  trying  to  do .   I  think 
there's  some  tension  between  him  and  the  chancellors  that 
could  be  relieved  if  he'd  be  a  little  more  outgoing.   Maybe 
it's  too  late  for  that;  I  don't  know.   It  isn't  too  late 
for  that."   And  I  said,  "Above  everything  else,  he's  got 
to  stay  out  of  this  political  campaign,  directly  or  indirectly, 
because,"  I  said,  "it's  my  instinct  that  Reagan's  going  to 
win,  and  it  may  be  hard  on  the  university.   But  at  the  same 
time,  I  think  we  ought  to  try  and  woo  Reagan  rather  than 


fight  him."   He  said,  "Oh." 

Now,  the  facts  are,  as  you  know,  Clark  was  in  the 
campaign--not  out  making  speeches,  but  word  got  out  that 
Clark  Kerr  said  Reagan's  election  would  be  a  disaster. 
Maybe  Pat  Brown  put  the  bead  on  him,  I  don't  know.   Well, 
you  know,  this  was  just  awful.   Then  the  next  thing  that 
happened  was  that  Reagan  was  elected. 


TAPE  NUMBER:   IV,  Side  1 
NOVEMBER  15,  1973 

MURPHY:   I  think,  just  to  complete  the  sad — and,  to  me, 
in  many  ways  tragic — episode  of  the  Clark  Kerr  continuing, 
growing  problem  with  the  regents,  we  can  move  on  now  to 
the  period  between  the  meeting  in  San  Francisco  that  I 
previously  described  and  the  final  meeting  which  was  in 
Berkeley,  I  think,  in  January,  perhaps.   As  I  indicated 
earlier,  many  of  the  regents,  by  this  time,  had  talked  to 
me.   They  were  worried.   I  think  the  ones  that  talked  to 
me  knew  perfectly  well  that  I  was  really  not  bucking  for 
the  presidency  and  didn't  want  it,  and  I  explained  credibly 
why  I  didn't.   So  I  guess  they  felt  I  was  a  sort  of  neutral 
resource.   And  there  was  great  concern  because  of  the 
difficulties  in  Berkeley,  the  student  riots;  and  the  prob- 
lems in  San  Francisco  at  the  Medical  Center,  the  dismissal 
of  John  Saunders — and  his  bitterness,  which  then  fed  back 
into  the  regents,  his  friends  on  the  regents.   Clark  Kerr's 
credibility  with  the  regents  had  clearly  been  eroded,  even, 
I  think  I  might  add,  unfairly.   But  at  the  same  time  Clark, 
I  think,  wasn't  sensitive  enough  to  this.   I  think  he  never 
dreamed  that  this  questioning  had  developed  in  the  minds 
of  many  regents,  even  friends  of  his. 

Then  Reagan  was  elected,  and  he  had  made,  as  you  will 


recall,  as  a  major  point  of  his  campaign  that  he'd  bring 
order  to  Berkeley.   Rightly  or  wrongly,  and  I  don't  know 
the  answer  to  this,  friends  of  Reagan  had  told  me  that 
they  had  evidence  that  Clark  was  working  on  behalf  of  Pat 
Brown,  and  telling  people  that  they  had  to  vote  for  Brown 
and  that  the  university  would  be  in  deep  trouble  if  they 
didn't;  and  of  course,  that  didn't  fall  happily  on  the  ears 
of  the  governor,  the  subsequent  Governor  Reagan.   So  I  was 
really  convinced  that  with  the  knowledge  that  he  was  in  a 
position  to  appoint  certain  ex  officio  trustees,  and  with 
the  growing  erosion  of  credibility,  that  Clark  was  in  very 
serious  trouble. 

Finally,  one  day  I  had  a  call  from  Harry  Wellman,  who 
was  very  loyal  to  Clark,  a  real  wonderful  soldier.   Harry 
and  I  had  our  differences,  but  I  came  to  love  him  very, 
very  much  and  I  have  great  respect  for  him.   He  came  down 
and  said  he  wanted  to  talk  to  me,  and  we  had  a  talk.   He 
asked  me  what  I  thought  the  situation  was — this  was  in 
about  October--concerning  Clark.   And  I  told  him  very  frankly, 
and  I  told  him  I  hoped  he  would  tell  Clark  that  I  thought 
Clark  was  in  deep  trouble,  and  especially  was  this  going  to 
be  true  if  Reagan  would  be  elected — and  by  that  time,  the 
polls  indicated  Reagan  was  going  to  be  elected.   I  remember 
Harry  saying,  "But  Reagan  doesn't  have  the  votes."   And  I 
said,  "Well,  that's  not  the  point,  Harry.   He  has  a  lot  of 


potential  votes  on  this  issue  that  he  wouldn't  have  on 
others.   A  lot  of  Clark's  friends  and  people  who  have  in 
time  respected  him  are  now  beginning  to  say  that  maybe 
he  isn't  the  right  man  for  this  job  at  this  time."   Well, 
then  Harry  and  I  talked  about  it.   He  got  the  point,  that 
I  was  very  honest  about  it,  as  best  I  knew  how  to  be,  and 

He  went  back,  and  I'm  fairly  certain  he  told  Clark 
what  I  told  him.   I  don't  know  Clark's  reaction,  except 
I  knew  that  an  incredible  thing  happened.   We  were  preparing 
the  budget.   Reagan  had  now  been  elected;  the  university 
budget  was  in  process  of  preparation.   And  right  at  the 
time  that  Clark  should  have  been  working  in  Sacramento 
and  talking  to  Reagan  and  talking  to  the  new  director  of 
finance  and  working  toward  the  processing  of  this  budget, 
he  went  off  to  Hong  Kong.   And  he  was  out  of  the  country 
for  about  three  or  four  rather  critical  weeks  when  many  of 
the  regents  felt  he  should  be  working  to  develop  a  rapproche- 
ment with  the  governor  and  the  new  administration.   And  this 
really  infuriated  some  of  the  regents  who  had  been  supporters 
of  his.   They  thought  it  was  irresponsible.   Why  Clark  did 
it,  I  don't  know.   I  guess  it  was  he  wasn't  sensitive  to  the 
seriousness  of  the  problem.   Furthermore,  by  this  time  this 
had  been  interpreted  by  the  new  Department  of  Finance — and 
then,  therefore,  Reagan--as  a  kind  of  a  snub,  because  other 


people,  second-level  people,  had  to  go  up  there  and  talk 
about  the  budget;  and  in  fact,  a  committee  of  the  regents, 
I  recall,  finally  went  up  along  with  Harry  Wellman  and  so 

So  all  these  things  were  building  up  now  to  a  crescendo. 
And  there  came  the  meeting  in  January  at  Berkeley.   I'll 
never  forget  that  one,  because  I  went  up  to  the  regents' 
meeting  and  the  chancellors'  meeting  the  night  before  with 
a  bad  cold,  and  flying  up  something  happened.   And  by  the 
time  the  next  morning  came  around,  I  had  a  very  severe  ear- 
ache, a  temperature  of  about  102,  and  felt  absolutely  awful. 
Well,  the  first  inkling  that  something  was  up  was  when, 
the  night  of  the  chancellors'  meeting,  the  chairman  of  the 
Board  of  Regents  called  a  meeting  of  regents  only,  without 
the  president.   You  see,  the  president  is  ex  officio  a 
regent.   Well,  this  was  really  quite  unusual.   And  Clark,  I 
remember,  came  and  had  dinner  with  the  chancellors,  and  you 
could  tell  he  was  a  little  upset  about  this  and  very,  very 
concerned.   In  fact,  he  came  around  to  me  and  said,  "Do 
you  know  why  they're  having  the  meeting?"   I  said  no — and 
I  really  didn't;  nobody  had  confided  in  me. 

Well,  the  next  thing  that  happened  was  that  the  follow- 
ing morning  one  of  the  regents — I  think  it  was  probably 
Norton  Simon;  it  could  have  been  Mrs.  Chandler — came  to  me 
and  said,  "Franklin,  this  thing  may  blow  tomorrow,  because 


there  was  a  serious  discussion  last  night  as  to  whether 
given,  now,  all  of  these  circumstances,  Clark  can  continue 
to  give  the  kind  of  leadership  to  the  institution."   Clark 
was  then  called — my  recollection  is — into  a  meeting  where 
he  laid  an  ultimatum  on  the  table  and  demanded  a  vote  of 
confidence.   Clark  had  done  this  a  time  or  two  before, 
months  before,  and  had  gotten  away  with  it.   But  he,  in 
effect,  said  that  he'd  heard  a  lot  of  rumors  and  this  and 
this,  and  that  he  wanted  the  board  to  give  him  a  vote  of 
confidence  that  he  should  lead  the  institution  into  the 
difficult  days  ahead.   He  left  the  meeting  of  the  regents — 
which  was  obviously  an  executive  session--and  came  back 
and  had  lunch  with  us.   This  was  Friday  lunch. 
MINK:   With  the  chancellors? 

MURPHY:   With  the  chancellors.   He  didn't  tell  us  that  he'd 
done  this.   By  this  time  I  was  feeling  so  awful — I  had,  as 
I  say,  this  terrible  earache — that  I  called  up  Hansena  and 
I  said,  "Please  make  an  appointment  at  UCLA  Medical  Center 
with  Dr.  [Victor]  Goodhill  or  somebody  that  knows  about 
ears,  because  I'm  really  very  sick,  and  I'm  going  to  come 
right  down  and  go  directly  from  the  airport  to  the  Medical 
Center. " 

So  I  left  about  noon.   I  got  on  the  airplane,  came 
down;  and  as  I  was  driving  in  from  the  airport,  I  turned  on 
the  radio  and  heard  that  Clark  Kerr's  resignation  had  been 


accepted  by  the  regents.   I  must  say,  I  was  surprised. 
I  knew  he  was  in  trouble,  but  I  didn't  know  that  he  was 
in  that  deep  trouble,  because  at  that  point  there  was  no 
way  that  Governor  Reagan  [could  have  done  it] .   He  only 
had  about  two  or  three  votes.   He  had  appointed  no  regents, 
and  he  had  only  the  head  of  agriculture  and  [Max]  Rafferty, 
the  state  superintendent  of  public  instruction,  both  of 
whom  are  ex  officio.   But  the  motion,  interestingly,  as 
I  understand  it — and  you'll  have  to  talk  to  some  regents 
about  this,  like  Carter  or  Pauley  or  Mrs.  Chandler — was 
made  by  some  moderate  regent  who  had  just  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  this  was  no  longer  possible.   And  I  just 
guessed  that  Clark  made  a  miscalculation,  that  he  never 
really  dreamed  that  this  could  and  would  happen. 

Let  me  say,  having  finished  this  Kerr  episode,  thinking 
back  over  what  I've  said,  one  might  be  able  to  interpret 
that  I  disliked  Clark  Kerr,  or  that  I  envied  him  or  envied 
him  his  job.   The  facts  are,  I  had  then  and  still  retain 
very  great  respect  for  him  as  an  absolutely  first-class  man. 
He's  a  man,  really,  of  great  personal  integrity,  although 
administratively  he  comes  out  of  labor  relations  and  so  on. 
He  had  a  technique  of  trying  to  avoid  confrontations,  which 
sometimes  can  be  interpreted  as  being  devious.   My  differences 
with  him  arose  from  only  one  issue,  which  was  that  I  felt 
that  for  as  far  back  as  I  could  look  into  the  history  of 


UCLA,  and  down  to  the  times  I  was  there,  UCLA  had  been 
discriminated  against  in  terms  of  evenhanded  treatment 
vis-a-vis  Berkeley.   And  had  there  been,  from  the  beginning, 
evenhanded  treatment,  provable  evenhanded  treatment,  there 
would  have  been  no  differences  whatsoever  between  us.   But 
I  was  not  about — as  I  said,  I  guess,  before--to  go  down  the 
same  track  that  Clarence  Dykstra  had  gone  down  and  that 
Ray  Allen  had  gone  down. 

I  believe  that  the  whole  Kerr  episode  was  a  tragedy. 
I  think  as  far  as  the  overall  University  of  California  is 
concerned,  it  was  enormously  contributed  to  by  Clark  Kerr. 
And  I  think  that  when  the  dust  has  settled  and  people  can 
get  a  little  perspective  on  that,  that  Clark  will  go  down 
as  a  strong  and  gifted  president.  But  in  spite  of  every- 
thing, my  job  was  to  build  UCLA,  and  I  wasn't  about  to  let 
anybody  prevent  that  from  happening. 

Now,  the  next  episode  in  this  whole  thing  till  I 
left  was  that  immediately  Harry  Wellman  was  made  acting 
president,  and  he  was  the  only  logical  person.   He  had 
total  confidence  in  all  the  chancellors.   He  knew  he  was 
an  interregnum,  and  so  he  tried  to  keep  the  lid  on  things; 
and  we  all  cooperated  with  him.   We  knew  this  was  no  time 
to  be  having  any  internecine  warfare. 

Then  the  whole  question  came  up  as  to  who  would 
succeed  Clark.   I  was  approached  by  several  of  the  regents — 


privately,  of  course--and  also  by  Roger  Heyns .   Roger  and 
I  had  become  very,  very  close.   Roger  felt  keenly  that  I 
should  do  this;  I  had  been  around  longer  and  so  on.   I 
explained  to  Roger  that  I  would  under  no  circumstances 
do  it,  and  I  also  did  to  the  regents.   But  I  took  that 
opportunity  to  say,  "Now,  above  everything  else,  please 
pick  somebody  outside  of  the  University  of  California. 
Most  of  our  difficulties  have  arisen  from  the  fact  that  a 
Berkeley-oriented  man  has  tried  to  run  the  whole  system. 
And  even  if  he'd  been  evenhanded,  he  would  have  been  open 
to  the  criticism  that  he  was  taking  care  of  alma  mater — that 
is  to  say,  the  Berkeley  campus."   And  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
I  had  gotten  to  know  Charlie  Hitch  very  well,  and  I,  in 
a  sense,  sort  of  became  a  campaign  manager  for  Charlie.   I 
felt  that  he  had  the  skills;  he  had  the  administrative  back- 
ground; he  was  not  identified  with  any  one  campus.   The 
regents  had  developed  great  confidence  in  him  as  financial 
vice-president.   He  was  low-key,  quiet;  he  was  a  man  of 
great  integrity.   All  the  chancellors  held  him  in  the  highest 
regard.   And  when  Charlie  was  appointed,  nobody  was  happier 
than  I . 

The  accusation  was  made,  of  course,  that  the  reason 
I  left  was  because  I  was  not  appointed  president.   Well, 
the  facts  are  that  there  are  plenty  of  regents  who  are 
witness  to  the  fact  that  I  said  more  than  once  to  them  that 


if  nominated,  I  won't  run;  if  elected  I  won't  serve, 
absolutely  not.   Because  I  had  made  it  clear  that  my 
satisfaction  in  university  administration  was  living  on 
a  campus.   And  if  I  were  to  go  into  a  purely  administra- 
tive post,  unrelated  to  the  educational  process,  well  then, 
why  stay  in  the  university?   But  really — and  I  may  have 
said  this  earlier,  I  can't  remember--!  had  long  since  made 
up  my  mind  that  ten  to  twelve  years  was  the  maximum  time 
you  ought  to  spend  on  a  university  campus.   You've  done 
the  most  you  could  by  then;  it  was  housekeeping  from  that 
point  on.   It  was  really  rather  healthy  for  a  new  voice  and 
a  new  set  of  energy. 

Secondly,  and  quite  honestly,  I  was  getting  very 
fatigued  in  higher  education.   I'd  been  in  it  for  twenty 
years,  and  Mrs.  Murphy  and  I  had  not  owned  our  life  one 
minute  of  that  time.   And  then,  on  top  of  this  fatigue, 
came  the  student  unrest,  came  some  of  the  irrational  acts 
of  the  faculty  in  not  standing  up  against  student  fascism. 
And  it  was  kind  of  disappointing,  because  higher  education 
had  always  been  an  idealistic  thing  to  me,  a  free  market- 
place of  ideas,  and  here  I  saw  these  young  fascists  running 
around  knocking  down  windows  and  denying  one  person  the 
right  to  speak  if  they  didn't  speak  their  way.   So  it  was 
a  combination  of  a  commitment  I've  made  to  myself  to  move 
on  after  ten  or  twelve  years,  plus  fatigue  after  twenty. 


plus  this  final  little  bit  of  extra  fatigue  and  dis- 
illusionment.  I  was  losing  my  temper;  I  was  getting 
short-tempered  with  the  students.   Chuck  Young  and  others 
would  say,  "Franklin,  you've  never  been  like  this  before." 
And  I'd  say,  "You  know,  you're  right."   And  I  knew  that 
the  time  was  ripe. 

MINK:   I  think  there's  one  other  point  where  speculation 
was  made--and  maybe  I  asked  you  this,  too,  when  you  spoke 
about  this  at  the  very  beginning  of  the  interview--but 
there  was  some  speculation  that  you  saw  in  the  coming  Reagan 
administration  budgetary  cuts,  pinches,  which  would  not 
allow  you  to  perform  for  UCLA  up  to  your  past  standard. 
MURPHY:   Sure.   Well,  I  mean,  that's  a  perfectly  fair 
conclusion  to  have  reached.   But  I  tell  you,  really,  that 
was  very  minimally  in  my  mind.   It  was  the  fact  that  I  was 
going  to  leave  anyway.   I'd  left  Kansas  after  nine  years; 
I  was  going  to  leave  here  after  x  number  of  years,  certainly 
no  more  than  ten  or  twelve — and  I  used  to  say  that.   But 
I  think  more  than  anything  else  it  was  a  sense  of  just 
fatigue.   I'd  run  out  of  gas. 

MINK:   If  all  these  other  factors  had  been  erased,  you 
would  have  stayed  on  and  fought  with  the  Reagan  policies 
of  austerity  in  the  university? 

MURPHY:   Oh,  of  course.   You  know,  I  was  the  one  who  stood 
up  at  that  meeting  out  here  and  said  I  wasn't  elected 


chancellor  to  preside  at  the  liquidation  of  the  University 
of  California,  right  in  the  presence  of  Reagan.   I  had  no 
problem  in  wanting  to  fight  him.   But  really,  as  I  say, 
I  was  running  out  of  gas  by  then.   You  can  do  these  jobs 
just  so  long.   I  think  there's  no  more  demanding  job  in 
American  society  today  than  running  a  large,  complex  uni- 
versity.  You  belong  to  everybody;  your  time  is  not  your 
own.   It's  worse  than  being  a  politician,  almost,  in  terms 
of  dinners  and  lunches  and  football  games  and  basketball 
games.   Your  house  is  not  your  own;  it  belongs  to  everybody 
but  you. 

MINK:   Parenthetically,  I  can't  resist  saying  what  lunches 
you  go  to,  because  this  most  recent  one.... 
MURPHY:   Oh,  the  Bob  Haldeman  thing.   [laughter]   Well, 
that's  another  interesting  little  footnote. 

But  anyway,  I  said  to  myself,  "What  am  I  going  to  do? 
I'm  going  to  leave."   Well,  there  were  several ■ things . 
Frankly,  if  the  Times-Mirror  offer  hadn't  come  along,  I 
would  have  probably  stayed  another  couple  of  years.   But 
I  didn't  want  to  go  into  foundation  work,  because  that's 
just  a  nothing.   I  knew  I  didn't  want  to  take  on  a  third 
university.   And  I  knew  I  didn't  want  to  go  into  public 
life.   I'd  been  pressured  all  along  to  run  for  governor 
or  senator  or  something,  but  I  was  trying  to  escape  from 
belonging  to  the  public.   I  wanted  a  sabbatical  from  the 


public,  a  little  private  life. 

So  the  only  thing  that  was  left  was  the  industrial 
world,  the  business  world,  and  I  was  not  unfamiliar  with 
it.   I'd  served  on  boards  of  corporations  and  so  on.   But 
I  didn't  want  to  make  tin  cans  or  run  a  company  that  makes 
steel  and  so  on.   I  didn't  want  to  leave  Southern  California, 
because  I'd  come  to  really  love  living  here.   And  one  day, 
when  Norman  Chandler  called  and  said  he  wanted  to  talk  to 
me — I'd  been  on  the  board  of  the  Times-Mirror  Company,  of 
course — and  said  he  was  ready  to  step  down  and  would  I  like 
to  take  his  place,  it  all  came  together.   I  mean,  it  was 
a  business  job;  it  was  in  Southern  California;  and  it  was 
in  a  field  that  I  had  a  great  interest  in:   publishing, 
which  is,  in  a  sense,  a  different  kind  of  educational  set 
of  processes.   So  it  was  just  like  everything  fitting 
together  in  a  most  unpredictable  and  remarkable  way. 
MINK:   Good  Irish  luck. 

MURPHY:   Really  was;  it  was  just  good  Irish  luck.   So 
there  it  is.   I  think  that,  in  retrospect,  I  did  get  out 
at  the  right  time.   I  must  say  in  all  honesty  that  I 
lobbied  very  hard  for  Chuck  to  succeed  me,  because  I  felt 
it  should  be  a  young  man.   I  felt  at  this  point  in  time 
somebody  who  understood  the  University  of  California  system 
was  absolutely  essential.   Chuck  had  been  with  me  working 
as  my  right  arm  during  all  of  these  episodes.   He  knew  all 


of  the  bodies  that  needed  to  be  unburied,  whether  it  was 
the  library  budget  or  this  or  that,  completing  the  medical 
school.   He  was  youthful;  he  had  lots  of  energy;  he  loved 
the  university.   It  seemed  to  me  that  he  was  the  perfect 
kind  of  a  successor.   And  I  personally  had  given  him  all 
the  difficulties.   I  mean,  who  should  have  been  handed  a 
thing  like  Angela  Davis  as  your  first  problem?   She  came 
the  year  after  I  left.   I  never  knew  the  lady.   But  all  of 
a  sudden  now,  a  young  and  untried  chancellor,  in  the  midst 
of  all  the  Vietnam  tensions  and  so  on,  has  to  have  Angela 
Davis.   I  think  he  handled  that  masterfully,  given  all  of 
the  inputs.   And  he's  done  a  fantastic  job  in  building  up 
the  private  support  program  which  we  started,  more  or  less 
started,  an  associates  program  and  an  annual  giving  pro- 
gram and  so  on.   He  has  a  different  style,  but,  you  know, 
of  course.   Not  only  is  that  predictable;  it's  desirable. 
And  I  think  he  has  earned  the  respect  of  the  faculty,  and 
I  think  that  going  through  this  period  of  austerity,  he 
has  managed  to  do  so  with  a  lot  of  courage,  cutting  away 
dead  wood  but  at  the  same  time  preserving  the  core  of  the 
integrity  and  the  quality  of  the  university.   So  in  retro- 
spect I'm  just  tickled  to  death  that  he  was  the  one  they 
gave  that  responsibility  to. 

I  also  think  that,  given  the  special  set  of  circum- 
stances, Charlie  Hitch  has  done  a  tremendous  job,  because 


I  think  he  has  avoided  the  ultimate  confrontation  with 
the  governor.   You  can't  win  on  that.   And  yet  I  think  he 
has  been  strong  and  forthright  and  pressed  about  as  hard 
as  any  human  being  could  or  should,  to  keep  the  university 
moving.   Well,  so  much  then  for  that  side  of  it. 
MINK:   One  other  matter  which  we  had  discussed  that  I 
would  like  you  to  comment  on--and  I  think  you  responded 
favorably  to  the  idea  of  doing  so — is  the  matter  of  the 
Byrne  Report*  and  the  reorganization  of  the  university, 
more  or  less  covering  it  in  a  philosophical  way  as  to  some 
of  the  things  that  weren't  carried  out,  some  of  the  things 
that  were,  and  so  on,  from  the  recommendations  in  that 

MURPHY:   I  don't  remember  the  many,  many  details,  but  there 
were  major  thrusts  in  it.   One  of  the  major  thrusts  was 
[that]  Byrne  concluded  as  an  outside  look,  a  directed  look, 
that  the  university  should  be  further  decentralized  in 
terms  of  administration  and  operations.   Now,  this,  of 
course,  as  far  as  I  was  concerned,  was  precisely  on  target. 
But  it  was  predictable  that  the  Kerr  administration  would 
find  it  way  off  target.   Byrne  was  not  irresponsible.   He 
didn't  say  separate  approaches  to  the  legislature  and  even 
separate  boards  of  regents.   What  he  said  was:   have  the 

*Byrne,  Jerome  C.  Report  on  the  University  of  California 
and  recommendations  to  the  special  committee  of  the  Regents 
of  the  University  of  California.   Los  Angeles,  1965. 


dialogue,  get  agreement  on  a  consolidated  budget  made  up  of 
the  several  pieces,  and  then  give  that  budget  to  that  campus 
within  broad  guidelines  and  let  them  handle  it.   Forget 
the  bureaucracy  at  Berkeley. 

He  also  spoke  very  importantly  about  local  boards  of 
regents.   He  didn't  call  them  that  even,  but  he  pointed  out 
that  although  there  was  one  University  of  California  system, 
actually  each  campus  had  its  own  constituency--its  own 
alumni,  its  own  students,  and  its  people  living  in  the  area 
that  had  a  special  interest  in  it.   He  pointed  out  that 
use  could  have  its  own  board,  and  these  were  people  that 
would  go  out  in  the  community  and  raise  money,  whether  they 
were  alumni  or  not--or  Occidental  College  or  Caltech — but 
that  the  university  campuses  were  crippled  by  not  having 
their  kind  of  friends  group.   This  was,  I  think,  deliber- 
ately misinterpreted.   And  the  cry  was  thrown  up,  well, 
he's  now  trying  to  fragment  the  Board  of  Regents.   Well, 
if  you  read  the  thing  carefully  and  talked  with  him,  you 
knew  that  was  not  what  he  was  trying  to  do. 

He,  as  you  know,  talked  with  some  vigor  about  the 
student  role,  I  think  properly  so.   I  think  there's  no 
doubt  that  partly  because  of  the  resistance  of  the  Academic 
Senate  on  the  academic  side  and  the  resistance  of  the  regents 
on  the  administrative  side,  there  was  a  very  clear  lack  of 
reasonable  student  participation  in  decision-making  processes, 


I  always  said  that  the  students  are  a  transient  popula- 
tion; they  think  only  of  today,  and  you  can't  expect  them 
to  think  of  tomorrow.   Therefore,  student  responsibility 
in  decision  making  should  be  limited  to  an  advisory  func- 
tion, but  not  decision  making,  not  the  ultimate  decision 
making.   When  I  came  to  UCLA,  there  was  practically  none 
of  that  anywhere  within  the  University  of  California.   The 
regents  didn't  even  want  students  at  the  meetings,  because 
it  slowed  them  down.   I  think  Byrne  was  absolutely  right, 
that  both  the  regents  and  the  faculty  had  missed  the  big 
move  in  student  attitudes  and  were  not  responding.   And  I 
think  Jerry  Byrne's  report  was  on  target  there. 

The  regents  backed  away  from  that,  and  needless  to  say, 
the  academic  senates  backed  away  very  quickly.   The  last 
thing  they  wanted  were  their  own  students  telling  them  how 
badly  or  how  well  they  were  doing.   Now,  I  think  that  if 
the  regents  had  taken  the  Byrne  Report  as  a  sort  of  long- 
range  target  and  said,  "Now,  we'll  take  pieces  of  it  and 
modify  them  out  of  experience,  but  in  the  end  a  lot  of 
these  things  ought  to  be  incorporated  in  our  traditional 
way  of  doing  business  within  the  university,"  it  would  have 
been  a  big  step  forward.   But  there  were  regents  who,  for 
their  reasons,  didn't  like  it;  and  the  Berkeley  administra- 
tion didn't  like  it;  and  the  best  way  to  kill  something  is 
to  say,  "Well,  we  can't  possibly  do  this  overnight;  there- 


fore,  we  can't  do  it."   And  it  just,  as  you  know,  dis- 
appeared in  limbo.   I'm  sorry,  and  I  think  it  was  just 
one  of  those  errors  in  judgment  on  the  part  of  the  regents 
that  they  didn't  pick  it  up  and  do  something  with  it. 
MINK:   I  wonder  if  you  could  begin  to  talk  about  how  you 
related  to  the  Academic  Senate  when  you  came,  because  I 
think  there's  a  marked  change  here  from  the  old  style  to 
the  new. 

MURPHY:   Yes.   Well,  as  I  told  you  earlier,  when  I  was 
asked  to  come  here  and  then  started  asking  around  the 
country,  one  of  the  reasons  given  me  by  my  friends  as  to 
why  I  shouldn't  come  was  the  control  of  the  faculty,  the 
power  of  the  faculty  in  the  University  of  California  system. 
And  when  I  came,  I  queried  the  senate  leadership  at  that 
time--people  like  John  [S.]  Galbraith  and  others  who  had 
been  in  the  senate,  Foster  Sherwood  and  others — and  I 
finally  realized  something  that  just  hadn't  occurred  to 
me:   that. of  all  the  standing  orders  of  the  regents  dele- 
gating authority  and  responsibility,  with  very  few  excep- 
tions, the  authority  delegated  to  the  Academic  Senate  was 
advisory  authority,  even  including  appointments,  promotions, 
which  were  the  critical  things  to  me.   And  as  I  talked  a 
little  bit  further,  I  realized  that  maybe — I  didn't  know 
till  later  that  it  was  absolutely  the  case — that  maybe 
what  had  happened  was  that  given  a  situation  where  the 


chancellor  had  to  be  a  weak  person  because  he  in  turn  was 
beholden  to  Berkeley,  that  maybe  these  advisory  functions 
had  become  de  facto  decision-making  functions.   And  sure 
enough,  when  I  got  into  the  job,  I  discovered  that  that 
was  precisely  the  case. 

Now,  here  the  poor  chancellor  was  caught  in  the  middle, 
because  the  process  was  that  the  budget  committee  and  the 
faculty  would  say,  "We  recommend  this  fellow  not  be  pro- 
moted. "   It's  come  to  me ;  I'd  say  for  a  variety  of  reasons, 
after  checking  with  the  deans  and  everybody  else,  he  should. 
So  I'd  overrule  them.   I  had  the  power.   But  then  that  had 
to  go  to  Berkeley,  where  I  could  be  overruled.   And  I  soon 
discovered  that  the  Berkeley  administration — this  is  my  own 
prejudice — more  often  overruled  the  chancellor  than  not 
if  the  chancellor  disagreed  with  the  faculty  and  the  senate 
committee,  because  it  was  important  for  the  president's 
office  to  retain  the  confidence  of  the  faculty.   And  this 
was  one  of  the  reasons  that  I  fought  my  tail  off  and  won 
in  the  end,  as  you  know,  to  give  the  chancellors  the  right 
to  make  the  final  decision  on  promotions  and  appointments. 

However,  I  also  realized  that  at  the  other  end  of  the 
line,  there's  no  sense  in  fighting  with  the  senate.   You 
know,  if  the  chancellor  is  overruling  90  percent  of  the 
budget  committee's  recommendations,  he  ought  to  get  out. 
It  means  that  he  and  the  faculty  aren't  talking  to  each 


other;  they're  talking  about  two  different  institutions. 
So  I  made  up  my  mind  early  on  to  try  to  work  with  the 
senate,  try  to  speed  up  the  processes  of  evaluation, 
streamline  procedures.   That,  incidentally,  was  tough, 
because  then  there  was  not  only  the  several  campus  senates 
but  then  there  was  a  statewide  senate  that  set  up  ground 
rules  under  which  the  local  senate  had  to  operate;  so  we  had 
to  fight  on  that  point  to  give  the  local  senate  power,  more 
power,  outside  of  the  statewide  Academic  Senate. 

Well,  finally,  after  a  while,  the  senate  leadership 
at  UCLA  saw  that  I  really  wasn't  trying  to  be  a  dictator, 
that  I  really  wasn't  trying  to  create  an  institution  unlike 
what  they  wanted,  that  my  interests  were  theirs--distin- 
guished  appointments,  not  letting  good  people  go,  improving 
the  library,  things  like  that--once  we  got  to  know  each 
other,  our  differences  became  very  minimal,  very  minimal. 
And  then  I  had  finally  the  whole  senate  leadership  backing, 
in  our  fight  (a)  to  let  the  campus  senate  have  more  authority 
vis-a-vis  the  statewide  senate;  and  let  the  campus  admin- 
istrator have  more  authority  vis-a-vis  the  statewide  admin- 

So  I  would  say — and  others  can  testify  however  they 
will  to  this  view — that  my  relations  with  the  senate  were 
by  and  large  very  smooth,  my  differences  very  little,  and 
that  in  the  end  we  had  an  absolutely  common  purpose -- 


namely,  to  get  authority  and  responsibility  located  where 
they  belong,  on  the  campus.   In  the  last  five  years  of  my 
administration,  I  never  had  any  member  of  our  UCLA  faculty, 
old  or  young,  ever  tell  me,  "Look,  you're  trying  to  break 
up  the  university."   On  the  contrary,  they  were  always 
pushing,  if  anything,  in  the  end,  for  me  to  go  a  little 
harder  to  get  more  done.   I  also  give  a  great  deal  of  credit 
to  Foster  Sherwood  for  this.   Foster  had  been  around  here 
a  long  time,  his  father  before  him;  and  Foster  educated  me, 
I  think,  early  on  as  to  the  values.   Everybody  was  aware 
of  the  problems.   But  the  facts  are  that  in  the  end  I  came 
to  understand  what  the  values  of  the  Academic  Senate  were, 
and  I  often  said  toward  the  end  that  knowing  what  I  knew 
then,  if  I  were  starting  a  new  university,  I'd  create  a 
senate  mechanism  not  very  different  than  the  one  that 
exists  now.   But  that  mechanism  only  works  well--that  is 
to  say,  a  strong  advisory  senate  mechanism  only  works  well — 
if  there's  a  strong  chancellor.   But  if  you've  got  a  system 
that  emasculates  the  chancellor,  then  the  thing  gets  totally 
out  of  focus. 

So  the  whole  problem  was  getting  the  thing  in  balance 
and  trying  to  communicate  this  to  a  place  like  Berkeley 
where  there  was  the  tradition  that  the  president  of  the 
university  was  the  Berkeley  chancellor,  too.   And  of  course, 
he  had  plenty  of  power.   Nobody  was  second-guessing  him  if 


he  was  in  fact  president  of  the  university  and  de  facto 
chancellor.   And  in  the  Sproul  regime,  of  course,  he  was 
that.   In  the  Kerr  regime,  there  was  a  chancellor,  but  in 
effect  he  operated  as  vice-chancellor  at  Berkeley. 

Toward  the  end,  the  only  concern  I  had  about  the 
Academic  Senate  was  that  it  wasn't  involved  as  much  as  it 
should  have  been.   I  wish  they  really  had,  many  of  them, 
been  in  it  more  on  the  constructive  side,  you  know.   Plenty 
was  said  at  meetings  when  this  stupid  Angela  Davis  thing 
was  going  on.   Everybody--not  everybody,  but  some  of  these 
faculty  members  were  bleeding  their  hearts  out  for  this 
irrational  young  woman.   But  at  the  time  when  we  should  have 
been  talking  about  curricular  reform  and  improving  under- 
graduate instruction,  you  couldn't  get  very  many  members 
of  the  faculty  in  a  meeting. 

MINK:   I  wonder  if  you  could  mention — I'm  not  meaning  to 
try  to  have  you  dig  down  for  specific  facts — some  of  what 
you  consider  the  important  appointments  that  you  were  able 
to  get  through  the  senate  that  sort  of  signified  a  victory 
for  more  authority  for  the  chancellor,  if  you  would. 
MURPHY:   Well,  I  think  the  first  area  that  we  had  problems 
in,  that  I  had  problems  with  the  senate,  was  in  the  area 
of  the  professional  schools  and  the  arts.   As  you  know,  I 
have  an  intense  interest  in  the  arts.   And  when  I  said 
the  arts,  I  meant  the  practice  of  the  arts  as  well  as  the 


study  of  the  arts.   And  obviously,  if  you're  going  to 
appoint  a  gifted  painter,  you  can't  expect  him  to  have 
much  of  a  bibliography.   There  may  be  catalogs  or  shows 
that  he  had,  but  it's  his  work  that  counts,  not  what  he 
says  about  Michelangelo.   And  that  would  be  true  of  all 
of  the  arts  and  the  theater  arts  as  well.   And  to  try  to 
get  through  appointments  there  in  the  business  school, 
Graduate  School  of  Business  Administration,  fine  people 
who'd  been  in  the  business  world.   They  hadn't  written 
many  scholarly  articles;  they  were  busy  doing  business. 
In  the  medical  school,  we  had  the  same  issues.   We  started 
the  School  of  Dentistry.   It  was  just  an  incredible  prob- 
lem.  When  you'd  get  a  fellow  that  everybody  would  say, 
"Here's  the  best  man  in  orthodontics  in  the  United  States," 
well,  he'd  only  written  four  papers  or  something. 

So  my  first  major  battles  were  across  the  board  in 
the  professional  schools  where  you  were  dealing  with  appli- 
cation.  And  I  repeatedly — in  dentistry,  in  business  admin- 
istration, to  a  lesser  extent  in  medicine,  and  to  quite  an 
extent  in  fine  arts — overruled  these  budget  committees.   I 
got  knocked  down  for  a  while  up  in  Berkeley,  and  I  finally 
had  a  long  talk  with  Clark  Kerr.   I  simply  said,  "I'm 
going  to  report  that  you  really  are  not  going  to  have 
distinguished  professional  schools  at  UCLA  until  this  non- 
sense stops.   I  think  the  regents  ought  to  know  this.   Mr. 


Edward  Carter,  who's  always  telling  me,  'Now,  the  UCLA 
business  school  ought  to  be  as  good  as  the  Harvard  business 
school,'  I'm  going  to  have  to  tell  him  why,  Clark,  that 
that  isn't  going  to  happen  because  you  don't  go  through 
this  process  at  Harvard.   The  several  schools  go  it  on 
their  own.   You  don't  have  a  budget  committee  in  which  a 
professor  of  English  literature  is  trying  to  figure  out 
whether  a  professor  of  marketing  is  a  good  marketeer." 
So  after  a  little  of  that,  why,  finally  I  began  noticing 
that  my  recommendations  contrary  to  the  opinion  of  the 
budget  committee  were  finally  getting  approved  up  there. 
And  I  spent  hours  with  these  budget  committees  explaining: 
"You're  teaching  and  doing  research  in  marketing,  which  is 
so  different  from  Shakespeare.   And  you  fellows  are  not 
drawing  enough  distinction  between  these  things."   Another 
school  we  had  a  big  problem  with,  and  maybe  they  still  do, 
was  library  service — a  terrible  problem  there. 

The  fellows  out  there  will  tell  you  that  they  used  to 
hear  me  say  a  thousand  times,  "You  can't  compare  apples  and 
pears.   We  want  the  best  apples  and  we  want  the  best  pears. 
So  you  measure  pears  one  way  and  apples  another  way." 
Finally,  I  got  them  convinced  that  in  the  case  of  the  pro- 
fessional schools,  they  could  put  a  much  higher  reliance 
on  the  reputation  of  the  man  within  his  profession  than  on 
how  many  articles  somebody  had  written,  whether  they  had  or 


hadn't  won  the  Nobel  Prize.   And  that  was,  I  think,  a  major 
breakthrough  for  all  the  professional  schools. 

When  I  came,  by  the  way,  to  California,  I  was  a  little 
shocked  that  although  there  was  enormous  strength--let ' s 
take  Berkeley  over  the  years--enormous  strength  in  the 
sciences,  let's  say  in  the  area  of  arts  and  sciences  (with 
the  possible  exception  of  the  law  school,  and  I  can  even 
argue  the  Boalt  Hall  problem) ,  the  same  degree  of  distinc- 
tion had  not  been  achieved  in  the  professional  schools. 
Nobody  ever  talked  about  the  Berkeley  School  of  Business 
Administration.   The  San  Francisco  Medical  Center  was 
ranked  somewhere  in  the  middle  of  medical  schools  around 
the  country.   The  School  of  Dentistry  at  San  Francisco  had 
a  very  average  reputation--countrywide ,  I  mean.   And  I 
always  puzzled  about  this. 

Then  I  finally  came  to  realize  what  the  problem  was: 
that  you  had  a  multipurpose  campus  being  run  by  arts  and 
science.   Now,  if  that  had  existed  at  Harvard  or  Yale, 
you  would  never  have  had  the  great  medical  and  law  and 
business  administration  programs  in  those  places.   And 
frankly,  it's  my  own  view  that  the  giant  strides--and  I 
think  they  are  giant  strides--that  have  been  made  in  the 
professional  schools  at  UCLA  are  in  a  large  measure  related 
to  the  fact  that  now  you're  measuring  lawyers  against  law- 
yers, doctors  against  doctors,  and  dentists  against  dentists, 


rather  than  physicists  against  doctors  or  biologists 
against  doctors. 

Well,  that,  I  think,  was  my  major  set  of  differences 
with  the  Academic  Senate,  and  I  think  we  finally  talked 
this  out.   I  don't  think  this  was  anybody  conquering  any- 
body else;  I  think  we  finally  reached  an  understanding 
that  we'd  measure  things  this  way.   Now,  in  the  area  of 
arts  and  sciences,  our  differences  were  practically  negli- 
gible.  I  just  assumed  that  the  chemists  knew  more  about 
chemistry  than  I  did,  and  if  they  said  this  fellow  ought 
not  to  be  appointed,  he  shouldn't  be.   So  in  the  end,  I'd 
have  to  say  our  differences  were  relatively  very  small. 
Of  course,  the  final  point  of  power  came  when,  toward  the 
end  of  the  Kerr  regime,  we  got,  finally,  the  regents  to 
agree  that  the  ultimate  decision  on  appointments  and  pro- 
motions would  be  left  to  the  campus. 

MINK:   And  that  was  soon  taken  back  after  the  Angela  Davis.. 
MURPHY:   Well,  let  me  say  that.... 
MINK:   It  was  a  giant  step  backward,  I'm  afraid. 
MURPHY:   No,  no,  wait  a  minute.   It  really  isn't,  and  I'll 
tell  you  why,  if  I  understand  it  correctly.   You  have  to 
understand  the  nuances.   When  we  were  in  this  struggle  with 
Berkeley  about  where  the  final  authority  would  be,  Kerr 
engaged  in  a  very  interesting  ploy.   When  finding  all  the 
chancellors  were  aligned  against  him  on  this  issue,  he  knew 


that  there  was  a  great  sympathy  to  get  it  done  within  the 
regents.   And  our  proposal  was  this:   that  we  go  through 
the  process,  you  have  the  budget  committee  and  the  senate 
apparatus  comment,  it  goes  to  the  chancellor's  office, 
then  the  chancellor  says  yea  or  nay  within  the  budgetary 
guidelines,  then  that  recommendation  be  transmitted  by  the 
president  to  the  regents,  without  comment,  just  trans- 
mitted.  Kerr's  ploy  was  that  there's  no  way  he'd  be  wil- 
ling to  do  that  because  he  was  unwilling  to  take  the  res- 
ponsibility of  appearing  to  approve  this  without  in  fact 
having  the  authority  to  approve  it.   So  to  his  amazement, 
and  I  must  say  mine,  the  regents  at  that  particular  meeting 
said,  "Well,  look,  we  don't  want  to  fool  with  it  at  all, 
anyway.   So  it  doesn't  even  need  to  be  transmitted.   The 
chancellor  can  just  act  in  the  name  of  the  regents." 


TAPE  NUriBER:   IV,  Side  2 
NOVEMBER  15,  19  73 

MURPHY:   Now,  this  action  of  the  regents,  that  they  didn't 
even  want  to  be  in  the  act,  is  something  that  we  hadn't 
dreamed  was  an  action  they'd  take,  and  we  didn't  want  it. 
We  simply  wanted  our  recommendations  to  go  to  them  for 
their  reaction  rather  than  being  second-guessed  by  the 
president's  office.   So  not  only  was  Kerr  nonplussed, 
but  so  were  we.   This  was  not  only  a  pie,  this  was  a  pie 
and  a  half.   We  didn't  really  want  it.   Okay.   I  must  say, 
it  speeded  things  up,  because  once  we  made  a  decision,  we 
could  call  a  guy  on  the  telephone;  and  when  we  were  in 
the  heavy  recruiting  business,  speed  was  very  important. 
But--now,  here's  where  I  get  on  a  little  thin  ice — 
there  came  the  Angela  Davis  problem;  and  at  that  point, 
because  of  the  way  that  thing  had  to  be  worked  out,  the 
regents  took  over  that  authority  from  the  chancellor.   Then 
there  was  a  reexamination.   Now,  as  I  understand  it,  the 
chancellor  makes  his  final  decision,  and  the  president's 
office  conduits  it  to  the  regents,  which  is  precisely  what 
we  wanted  in  the  beginning,  because  I  think  it  is  quite 
wrong  for  the  regents  not  to  have  the  final  authority, 
especially  with  tenure  and  appointments.   The  regents, 
after  all,  have  the  responsibility  of  the  fiscal  stability 


of  the  university;  they  had  the  fiduciary  responsibility. 
When  you  make  a  tenured  appointment  or  promote  somebody 
to  tenure,  you're  making  a  lifetime  contract  with  that 
man.   You're  committing,  I  don't  know,  a  half  a  million 
dollars  of  the  public's  money.   I  don't  know  any  university 
in  America  where  the  regents  don't,  usually  pro  forma,  say 
aye  or  nay  in  the  final  analysis.   And  the  regents  appoint 
the  tenured  professor.   I  think  that  that's  the  way  it 
ought  to  be. 

The  thing  I  was  objecting  to  was  the  chancellor  being 
second-guessed  by  someone  in  Berkeley  who  didn't  know  any- 
thing about  it.   And  my  understanding  is  that  that  second- 
guessing  is  still  out.   The  regents  are  back  in  the  act. 
But  again,  I  repeat,  I  didn't  ever  want  them  out  of  the  act. 
As  I  say,  I  know  of  no  university  in  the  country  where 
they  aren't  in  the  act.   I  think  from  everything  Chuck  and 
the  others  tell  me  that  it's  as  different  as  night  and  day 
from  the  old  days,  when  you'd  go  through  a  time-consioming 
process  and  then  you'd  just  get  a  note  back  from  Berkeley 
saying,  "I  disapprove."   And  you'd  call  up  and  say,  "Well, 
why?"   "Well,  it  doesn't  look  right  to  me."   "What  inves- 
tigations have  you  made?"   "Well,  I  talked  to  somebody  in 
the  Berkeley  department  and  he  doesn't  think  this  fellow's 
that  good."   I  used  to  get  that  sort  of  thing.   And  that, 
apparently,  doesn't  happen  anymore. 


Well,  anyway,  my  relations  with  the  Academic  Senate, 
I  look  back  on  with  great  satisfaction.   I  enjoyed  it. 
The  discussions  were  sometimes  spirited,  but  they  were 
always  in  good  faith.   We  agreed  to  disagree  with  a  smile. 
Nobody  yelled  at  each  other,  and  in  the  end  we  were  working 
very,  very  smoothly. 

MINK:   Did  you  get  a  chance  to  speak  out  whenever  you  wanted 
to  in  the  senate?   You  could  go  down  and  speak? 
MURPHY:   Oh,  yes,  and  did. 

MINK:   And  did.   You  didn't  have  any  resentment? 
MURPHY:   No,  none  at  all. 

MINK:   I  don't  think  the  chancellors  tended  to.   I  don't 
think  Allen  tended  much  to. 

MURPHY:   I  used  to  get  much  involved  in  senate  meetings. 
But,  you  know,  it  was  the  old. .. there ' s  so  many  bits  of 
nonsense.   I  remember  the  first  senate  meeting  I  went  to. 
There  was  the  agenda,  some  phrase  like  report,  or  announce- 
ments or  something,  by  the  president.   The  chancellor's 
not  even  mentioned!   I  looked  up  the  standing  orders;  sure 
enough,  there  was  no  provision  in  the  standing  orders  that 
in  the  senate  meeting  the  chancellor  would  have  the  same 
right  to  comment  as  the  president.   I  went  to  the  senate 
fellows  right  away,  and  I  said,  "This  is  ridiculous.   The 
president  isn't  here  anyway  most  of  the  time,  and  when  he 
comes,  it's  ceremonial.   If  you  really  want  this  thing  to 


be  pragmatic  and  work,  you  can  cross  out  the  president 
and  you  wouldn't  miss  a  thing.   But  at  least  you've  got 
to  have  the  chancellor."   Well,  they  finally  agreed  they 
ought  to,  and  I  took  advantage  of  it.   I  don't  think  there 
was  a  senate  meeting  that  I  ever  missed.   I  built  my  calen- 
dar around  it.   And  I  doubt  if  there  was  a  single  senate 
meeting  in  which  I  didn't  have  something  to  say  to  start 
it  out. 

MINK:   Well,  this  would  give  you  an  opportunity,  say,  to 
funnel  back  information  that  you'd  gained  through  regents' 

MURPHY:   Absolutely.   As  a  matter  of  fact,  when  I  got 
here,  the  Kerr  administration  had  created  some  pattern  for 
all  the  campuses.   They  had  to  have  something  called  the 
executive  council.   And  they  said,  "This  is  who  should  be 
on  it."   Well,  I  forget  what  it  was;  I  just  remember  I 
thought  it  was  ridiculous,  so  I  never  had  a  meeting  with 
the  executive  council,  as  such.   And  that  was  to  meet  every 
two  months  or  something.   What  I  did  was  to  create  the  Council 
of  Deans,  which  didn't  exist  in  these  standing  orders.   That's 
another  thing.   [In]  the  University  of  California  system, 
when  I  arrived,  the  deans  didn't  amount  to  a  damn.   It  was 
amazing  how  little  power  they  had  in  all  kinds  of  processes, 
which  I  thought,  again,  was  wrong  in  terms  of  responsibility. 
I  created  this  Council  of  Deans,  and  then  added  people  ex 


officio — the  librarian,  some  of  the  business  people,  and 
the  vice-chancellor. 

MINK:   Wasn't  Public  Affairs  Services  in  that? 
MURPHY:   Yeah,  well,  I  had  them  there  all  the  time,  Andy 
or  somebody.   But  then  I  also  added,  shortly  thereafter, 
key  senate  people--the  chairman  of  the  senate,  the  chair- 
men of  the  key  committees  of  the  senate.   And  so  I  would 
have  a  meeting  of  this  committee,  this  group,  the  Monday 
morning  after  the  Friday  regents'  meeting,  in  which  I  had 
given  a  total  report  on  what  went  on,  and  even  attitudes. 
These  fellows  down  here,  I'll  bet  you,  knew  earlier  more 
about  the  insecure  position  of  Clark  Kerr  than  nearly  any- 
body, because  I  was  very  candid  with  them,  and  they  always 
kept  their  confidence.   I  never  read  in  the  Daily  Bruin  or 
something. . . . 

MINK:   I  think  that's  perfectly  true,  because  I  think  as 
far  as  the  campus  community  at  UCLA  was  concerned,  the 
insecure  position  of  Kerr  wasn't  known,  really,  which  is 
a  good  commentary  on  the  confidentiality. 

MURPHY:   Yes.   But  these  fellows,  they  knew  a  lot  of  things. 
But  the  point  is,  they  knew  precisely  what  happened  on  the 
following  Monday,  and  then  the  deans  could  go  back,  and  if 
it  were  related  to  anything  that  was  germane,  they  could 
bring  the  department  chairman  in  the  following  day;  so  that 
by  the  end  of  the  following  week,  everybody  who  needed  to 

know  knew.   I  also  frequently  met  at  lunch  with,  say,  the 
whole  budget  committee,  not  about  a  man  or  a  problem,  but 
about  philosophy.   I  would  meet  with  the  Graduate  Council 
from  time  to  time  and  talk  about,  very  candidly,  "Why  is 
this  department,  say,  the  Spanish  department,  which  used 
to  be  very  good--what  can  you  do  about  this?"   I  asked  the 
budget  committee  somewhere  along  the  line  to  make  a  sub- 
committee to  advise  us  on  weak  departments,  what  we  should 
be  doing  with  FTE . 

So  my  concern  about  the  Academic  Senate  never  related 
to  my  inability  to  get  along.   In  fact,  I  wish  we  could  have 
had  more  dialogue.   It  was  basically  the  amount  of  time  we 
had  to  waste  getting  this  decentralization.   You  know,  as 
I  look  back  on  my  years  out  there,  if  what  we  ended  up  with 
in  terms  of  administrative  authority  and  responsibility-- 
which  incidentally  didn't  destroy  the  university  at  all. 
It  made  certain  bureaucrats  in  Berkeley  less  potent,  but 
I  think  it  strengthened  the  university.   They  had  to  have 
it  with  these  young  campuses  coming  along.   God,  they 
couldn't  be  run  like  adjuncts  to  some  third-level  bureau- 
crat.  When  I  look  back,  if  I  and  Chuck  Young  and  Foster 
Sherwood  and  certain  committees  of  the  senate  had  had  the 
same  administrative  structure  in  the  beginning  that  we 
ended  up  with,  we  would  have  been  able  to  do  so  many  more 
things,  constructive  things. 


MINK:   So  much  wheelspinning . 

MURPHY:   Just  for  nothing.   Parenthetically,  and  in  all 
fairness  to  Clark  Kerr,  I  think  he  really  didn't  want  to 
give  up  a  lot  of  authority,  but  I  don't  blame  him  nearly 
as  much  as  I  blame  the  second-level  people,  the  shadowy 
bureaucracy  that  had  no  responsibility,  no  public  visi- 
bility, and  didn't  have  any  responsibility  to  the  regents 
or  anything  else,  but  by  delegation  had  a  whole  lot  of 
power  and  they  didn't  want  to  give  it  up.   They  didn't 
want  to  give  it  back  to  the  campuses.   And  this  is,  of 
course,  the  kind  of  thing  you  see  in  any  bureaucracy. 
Federal,  state,  or  otherwise.   Little  people  with  power 
do  not  want  to  give  it  up,  regardless  of  the  logic  or  illogic. 
MINK:   I  wonder  if  you  would  speak  a  little  while  about  the 
work  that  you  did  in  the  beginning--!  think  it  was  towards 
the  beginning  of  your  administration--to  set  up  a  better 
alumni  arrangement,  the  setting-up  of  the  UCLA  Foundation, 
the  bringing  in  of  Doug  Kinsey.   Why  did  you  think  this  was 
necessary  to  begin  with? 

MURPHY:   When  I  came,  I  got  to  know  the  ex-presidents  of 
the  Alumni  Association  very  quickly.   As  you  know,  they 
were  all  dedicated,  and  they  all  believed  in  UCLA.   They'd 
had  to  fight  hard  for  it.   They  had  all  served,  many  of 
them,  on  the  board  as  ex  officios.   But  I'd  become  accustomed 
to  a  very  powerful  alumni  organization  in  Kansas.   As  I 


told  you  earlier,  they  were  the  ones  that  permitted  me 
to  beat  this  crazy  governor  year  after  year,  override  his 

MINK:   Well,  what  was  your  assessment  of  ours  when  you 
first  came? 

MURPHY:   As  I  got  into  it,  I  was  enormously  impressed  with 
the  dedication  of  these  ex-presidents  and  absolutely  shocked 
at  the  weakness  of  the  basic  organization.   Honestly,  in 
some  respects,  to  me  it  didn't  exist.   Sure,  you  could 
mobilize  some  people  for  the  USC  football  game  or  this  or 
that.   There  were  some  of  these  organizations  like  Blue 
Shield  that  didn't  do  anything.   They  had  a  dinner  once  a 
year,  and  nothing  transpired.   The  groups  that  were  involved 
were  the  same  people  that  had  been  talking  to  each  other 
for  twenty-five  years.   Some  of  the  women's  groups.  Gold 
Shield,  would  spin  their  wheels,  and  then  they'd  come  up 
with  two  scholarships  per  year.   There  was  no  annual  giving 
of  consequence,  and  quite  honestly--and  I'll  have  to  say 
plainly — as  I  got  into  the  staff  down  there,  it  was  clear 
to  me  that  it  just  wasn't  up  in  terms  of  understanding  and 
strength  and  capacity  to  build  an  aliamni  organization  almost 
from  scratch,  in  a  certain  sense. 

And  the  best  symbol  of  that  was  something  that  really 
amazed  me.   Here  was  this  great,  rich  university,  this  huge 
alumni  body  with  really  extraordinary  budgets  as  compared 


with  what  I'd  been  accustomed  to  operating  in  Kansas,  in 
one  of  the  richest  cities  in  the  United  States.   So  Harry 
Longway,  who  was  then  the  aliimni  secretary,  came  over, 
and  he  said,  "You  know,  I  need  a  little  help  from  you." 
And  I  said,  "What's  that?"   He  said,  "You  know,  we've  got 
a  little  more  space  in  Kerckhoff  Hall  now,  and  I'd  kind 
of  like  to  upgrade  it  a  little  bit  and  get  some  draperies 
in  there  and  new  pieces  of  furniture  in  some  of  the  new 
rooms  we're  getting,"   But,  he  said,  "I've  got  to  convince 
the  alumni  board  of  this."   "Well,"  I  said,  "what  are  we 
talking  about  in  money?"   He  said,  "About  $30,000."   I 
said,  "Are  you  worried  about  getting  money  for  that?" 
"Oh,"  he  said,  "it's  going  to  be  very  tough."   He  said, 
"In  fact,  I  put  some  feelers  out,  and  it  looks  like  I'm 
not  going  to  get  it.   So  we're  having  a  meeting  of  the 
executive  committee  of  the  alumni  board  at  the  California 
Club  or  Jonathan  Club,  and  would  you  come  to  the  meeting 
and  help  me?"   I  said,  "First  of  all,  I'd  like  to  go  over 
it."   So  I  went  over  there  and  looked  at  what  they  were 
talking  about,  which  was  nothing.   Nothing.   And  I  went 
to  this  meeting,  and  I  heard  these  people  debate  this 
issue,  and  I  couldn't  believe  it.   And  I  just  got  angry 
finally,  and  I  said,  "Look,  I've  got  to  go."   But  I  said, 
"You  know,  I  really  believe  this.   If  you  guys  can't  find 
$30,000  to  make  this  a  respectable  kind  of  a  place  on  campus 


when  the  physics  department  is  spending  that  every  minute," 
I  said,  "really,  I  think  you  ought  to  disband."   I  got  up 
and  walked  out.   Well,  needless  to  say,  they  got  the  $30,000 
by  making  a  few  phone  calls  around  to  some  people. 

I  got  to  thinking  about  this,  and  I  started  talking 
to  some  of  the  old-time  alumni  presidents,  who  had  to 
admit  to  me  that  we  didn't  know  who  the  al-umni  were.   They 
didn't  have  any  money  to  put  the  people's  names  on  a  computer. 
We'd  done  that  at  Kansas,  little  old  Kansas.   They  didn't 
know  who  their  alumni  were,  where  they  lived.   And  there 
was  no  annual  fund  or  anything  else.   Let's  see,  who  was 
the  president  then?   I  guess  it  was  Tom  Davis. 
MINK:   Tom  Davis  was  probably  one  who  you  talked  to. 
There  were  others.   Elder  Morgan  was  still  around. 
MURPHY:   No,  I  didn't  talk  to  him. 
MINK:   You  didn't  talk  to  Elder  Morgan? 

MURPHY:   No.   I  think  it  was  Tom  that  I  finally  went  to, 
Tom  and  Phil--Phil  was  still  alive.   When  Tom  became  pres- 
ident, I  said,  "Tom,  you've  got  a  chance  now  to  rejuvenate 
this  damned  thing."   And  we'd  been  talking  about  the  memorial 
activities  campaign;  that  was  a  trigger.   But,"  I  said,  "we 
aren't  going  to  be  able  to  do  anything  until  we  get  a  new 
secretary.   I'm  convinced  of  that."   To  make  a  long  story 
short,  Doug  came  aboard.   Doug,  with  his  f ailings--and 
who  doesn't  have  a  few  failings — made  an  enormous  contri- 


bution  to  this  whole  thing.   Energetic,  committed,  smooth, 
wanted  to  go  first  class,  wasn't  brainwashed  by  the  old 
Berkeley  syndrome. 
MINK:   The  hangdog. 

MURPHY:   Yeah,  precisely.   And  we  started  a  whole  lot  of 
things  at  once,  as  you  know:   the  annual  giving,  the 
Chancellor's  Associates,  the  memorial  activities  campaign. 
We  beefed  up  the  staff.   I  went  up  to  Berkeley  and  got  out 
of  the  regents — again  with  the  greatest  difficulty;  getting 
it  even  to  the  regents  through  the  statewide  administration 
was  pulling  teeth — that  they  ought  to  make  an  investment 
of  a  few  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  the  Alumni  Association. 
Let  us  hire  some  people.   That  would  come  back  tenfold  in 
private  giving.   So  we  got  regents'  financing.   I,  to  be 
perfectly  honest  with  you,  used  state  funds  and  picked  up 
some  bills  that  I  probably  shouldn't  have,  bootlegged  some 
other  money  in  temporarily,  and  very  quickly,  under  Doug's 
leadership  and  enthusiasm,  we  began  adding  a  staff.   We 
got  that  marvelous  Nancy  Nay lor  in,  who  I  think  has  done 
a  superb  job  with  a  magazine  which,  prior  to  that,  was  just 
nothing  relatively,  in  my  view,  with  some  interesting, 
thoughtful  articles,  you  know,  rather  than  just  a  listing 
of  what  the  class  of  '36  was  doing.   Doug  began  organizing 
the  alumni  county  by  county  on  annual  giving;  he  got  the 
associates  thing  going.   All  I  can  say  is  that  with  Tom 


Davis's  enthusiasm  and  toughness--Tom  was  critical  in  this, 
really;  I  don't  think  it  would  have  happened  without  Tom's 
support,  both  in  the  board  and  also  while  he  was  active 
as  president--and  Doug's  enthusiasm,  you  know,  it  all 
happened.   The  names  on  computers,  people  started  getting 
done;  we  started  developing  techniques  and  giving  asso- 
ciates certain  benefits.   And  Chuck  was  there,  right  all 
along,  when  this  was  happening. 

It  was  very,  very  sad,  in  my  view,  that  Doug  had  to 
leave.   In  fact,  I  would  have  overlooked  any  kind  of  indis- 
cretion.  There  but  for  the  grace  of  God  goes  everybody. 
But  the  alumni  president  and  vice-president  at  that  time 
were  very  uptight  about  this,  creating  some  morale  problems 
down  here  in  the  shop,  so  Doug  had  to  go. 

MINK:   I  didn't  know--maybe  you  don't  want  to  put  this  into 
the  record--exactly  why  it  was? 

MURPHY:   Well,  let  us  simply  say  that  Doug  was  a  little 
careless  in  his  personal  life.   I  don't  want  to  get  into 
any  details,  except  to  say  that  it  created  some  problems 
down  there.   But  it  can  never  be  taken  away  from  Doug 
that  the  great  vitality  that  currently  exists  there  now 
in  all  directions — in  fund  raising  and  in  alumni  activities 
and  so  on — that  it  really  all  started  with  Doug  and  Tom 
Davis.   Now,  I  don't  want  to  take  anything  away  from  Chuck; 
on  the  contrary,  I  think  he's  done  a  fantastic  job.   And  I 


think  Don  Bowman,  in  a  quiet  way,  has  done  a  great  job 
in  building  up  the  organization  and  giving  it  full  support. 
No,  I  look  back  on  that  as  one  of  my  major  contributions 
to  the  place. 

MINK:   One  other  thing.   Where  precisely  did  the  idea 
of  the  UCLA  Foundation  generate? 

MURPHY:   It  came  from  me.   That  and  the  annual  giving 

MINK:   I  think  the  UCLA  Foundation  has  been  a  wonderful 
thing  for  fund  raising. 

MURPHY:   There's  the  foundation,  and  then  there  are  the 

MINK:   Well,  I'm  thinking  of  the  foundation. 
MURPHY:   There  were  really  three  things.   Now,  they  had 
some  kind  of  a  weak  annual  giving  thing.   I  forget  what 
they  called  it,  but  it  was  just  sort  of  passive.   But 
what  we  established  was  an  ongoing,  hard-hitting,  annual 
giving  thing.   This  was  based  on  the  theory  that  you  go 
after  your  alumni  for  five-,  ten-,  twenty-five-,  hundred- 
dollar,  two  hundred-dollar  annual  gifts  to  your  alma  mater. 
Secondly,  there  was  the  Chancellor's  Associates.   Here  you 
were  going  after  $1,000  a  year  for  ten  years  from  the 
bigger  giver,  the  one  who  could  give  more.   And  finally, 
the  UCLA  Foundation,  which  would  be  concerned  with  bequests 
and  with  really  major  projects,  where  you  were  talking  about 


thousands  or,  as  it  turned  out,  millions.   These  were  all 
to  be  dovetailed  and  integrated.   In  the  beginning,  we 
separated  that  function  from  the  Alumni  Association,  really 
because  the  Alumni  Association  was  a  little  standoffish, 
because  in  order  to  get  the  other  operation  going,  the 
fund-raising  operation  going,  we  had  to  use  non- Alumni- 
Association  money.   There  were  very  fearful  of  taking 
regents'  money.   They  didn't  want  to  get  hooked  back  up 
again  with  Berkeley.   That  was  finally,  in  the  end,  for 
logical  reasons — because  most  of  the  money's  going  to 
come  from  alumni--brought  back  together. 

The  second  issue  we  faced  was  who  would  invest  and 
handle  the  money:   the  regents,  who  had  always  done  it,  or 
the  foundation  itself?   In  the  beginning,  I  said  let  the 
regents  do  it,  because  the  foundation  isn't  big  enough; 
there  aren't  enough  knowledgeable  people  involved  in  it 
yet;  we  can't  have  a  good  finance  committee.   But  at  a 
time  when  you  reach  a  critical  mass,  when  you've  got  real 
money  coming  in,  you've  got  lots  of  people — investment 
bankers  and  accountants  and  so  on — on  the  board,  and  you 
can  get  an  investment  subcommittee,  then  you  should  take 
it  away  from  the  regents.   Well,  they've  done  that  now, 
you  know. 

MINK:   Well,  that's  what's  so  great.   It  really  is.   This 
means  that  when  we  get  endowments  for  specific  purposes 


like  oral  history,  we  can  put  it  in  the  foundation  and 
avoid. . . 

MURPHY:   Precisely. 

MINK:   ...taking  a  lower  interest  than  you'd  get  from  a 

MURPHY:  The  model  I  had  for  this  was  the  first  thing  of 
its  kind  ever  established  in  a  public  institution  in  the 
United  States.  It's  called  the  Kansas  University  Endow- 
ment Association. 

MINK:   So  it  was  patterned,  really,  after  your  Kansas  exper- 

MURPHY:   Exactly.   I,  in  fact,  wrote  back  there  and  had 
Irv  Youngberg,  who's  the  longtime  director  of  it,  send 
out  all  of  the  bylaws  and  everything  else.   And  this  was 
the  model.   They  had  the  problem  there.   It  was  even  worse 
in  Kansas.   Any  money  given  to  the  university  before  this 
went  into  the  state  treasury,  by  God;  and  to  get  it  back 
out,  you  had  to  go  through  all  the  bureaucracy--not  just 
to  the  regents,  now,  but  to  the  state  treasury.   Imagine! 
So  we  just  set  up  this  parallel.   I  didn't.   This  was  set 
up  in  Kansas  back  in  1912,  I  think.   And  incidentally, 
that  little  University  of  Kansas,  which  isn't  that  big, 
Kansas  University  Endowment  Association  today  has  assets 
of  $70  million  dollars. 

This  one  is  going  to  have  huge  sums  of  money  these 


days,  because  you've  got  many  more  alumni;  you've  got 
a  much  richer  community  from  which  to  grab  it.   And  as 
you  know,  year  after  year  (Bill  Forbes,  who's  still  on 
the  regents,  loves  to  send  me  this,  because  he  frequently 
comments  that  in  a  certain  sense  I  woke  the  regents  up 
to  their  opportunities  in  private  giving) ,  I  think  for  the 
past,  I  don't  know,  eight  or  ten  years,  UCLA  shows  annually 
that  it  brings  in  more  private  money  than  any  campus  of 
the  university,  including  Berkeley.   And  this  ought  to 
just  continue  to  go,  and  I  think  it  certainly  is  going  to 
with  Chuck's  total  enthusiasm  about  it.   You  picked  out 
a  subject  that  was  something  that  was  really  very  close 
to  me.   And  you  had  to  be  successful,  because  you  found 
nothing.   You  couldn't  do  worse. 

MINK:   One  of  the  things  that's  been  mentioned  as  being 
one  of  your  strong  points  was  the  individual,  face-to-face, 
money-raising  activities  that  you  engaged  in.   I  wonder  if 
you  could  talk  about  some  of  those,  and  maybe  about  your 
experiences  and  what  your  technique  was. 

MURPHY:   Well,  I  don't  know  that  I  can  describe  any  tech- 
nique.  I've  always  been  a  bit  of  a  peddler  or  a  salesman. 
My  father  was  a  doctor  and  a  bit  of  an  intellectual,  and 
my  mother  was  a  concert  pianist,  and  my  aunt  a  painter; 
so  I  was  always  living  in  a  sort  of  an  esoteric  intellec- 
tual world.   But  I  had  a  tough  old  uncle  who  never  went 


to  college,  was  a  self-made  businessman,  very  successful. 
And  he  convinced  my  father  that  I  should  be  given  to  him 
each  summer,  from  about  the  time  I  was  twelve  years  old 
or  something,  to  work.   I  worked  for  five  summers  in  a 
department  store,  starting  as  a  stockboy  and  becoming 
finally  a  salesman,  and  I  enjoyed  selling.   It  was  lots 
of  fun.   It  was  a  highly  competitive  exercise,  because  if 
a  lady  came  in  and  wanted  to  buy  a  tie  for  her  husband, 
then  the  challenge  was,  couldn't  I  sell  her  three  ties? 
And  I've  always  enjoyed  this  kind  of  peddling,  if  you  want 
to  call  it  that. 

Well,  of  course,  the  great  advantage  is  that  when 
you're  peddling  an  idea  for  support  within  the  university, 
you're  peddling  something  of  very  high  quality.   And  if 
you  can  conceive  and  phrase  it  correctly  and  communicate 
some  enthusiasm,  it's  pretty  hard  to  fail,  assuming  that 
there  is  money  in  the  pocket  of  the  person  you're  talking 
to.   And  there  are  many  different  ways  of  getting  at  it. 

I'll  give  you  one  example  of  many,  many.   One  day 
Bob  Vosper  called  me  up,  and  he  said,  "There's  a  young 
man  on  the  faculty  spending  a  sabbatical  year  in  Israel. 
He  just  called  me,  and  the  entire  library  of  a  very  old 
bookseller  firm  is  up  for  sale."   This  was  a  firm,  German- 
Jewish.   It  was  started  in  Frankfurt,  had  been  driven  out 
of  Germany  by  Hitler,  so  they'd  taken  their  stock  and 


moved  to  Vienna.   And  they'd  been  drive  out  of  Vienna 
when  Hitler  came  in  with  the  Anschluss,  and  they'd  gone 
to  Israel.   And  the  last  member  of  the  family  had  died, 
and  the  children  had  disappeared  into  the  Diaspora  some- 
where, and  nobody  was  interested  in  carrying  on;  and  here 
was  this  huge  book  stock.   And  the  fellow  [Arnie  Band] 
who  was  over  there  was  one  of  our  very  bright  young  people 
in  Jewish  studies,  Hebrew,  at  UCLA.   So  Bob  said,  "Can't 
we  get  them?"   I  said,  "Well,  how  much  is  involved?"   He 
said,  "About  a  $120,000."   Parenthetically,  Bob  told  me 
the  other  day  that  Shimeon  Brisman  told  him  that  to  buy 
that  library  today  would  cost  you  $1  million. 

So,  where  do  I  get  $120,000?   Now,  it  had  to  be  cash, 
and  it  had  to  be  like  in  six  days.   Well,  you  know,  you 
develop  a  network  of  contacts,  and  I  called  up  my  friend 
Eliot  Corday,  who  is  a  doctor  and  one  of  the  leading 
cardiologists  in  the  Beverly  Hills-Los  Angeles  area — 
devoted  to  UCLA.   Obviously  I  knew  that  he  had  not  only 
Jewish  patients  but  very  wealthy  Jewish  patients.   And  I 
told  him  my  story,  and  I  wound  up  by  saying,  "Eliot,  look. 
Los  Angeles  is  the  second  largest  Jewish  city  in  the  United 
States,  maybe  in  the  world.   There  is  a  deep  interest  on 
the  part  of  the  Jews  in  this  community  about  their  culture, 
and  there  ought  to  be  a  great  Jewish  library  here  to  be 
used  not  just  by  UCLA  people  but  by  the  several  Jewish 


seminaries  and  so  on,  and  there  just  isn't.   And  we  have 
this  opportunity.   It'd  be  sinful  to  let  it  go  by.   And  he 
said,  "Well,  I'll  call  you  back.   How  much  time  have  I  got?" 
I  said,  "I  need  to  know  by  tomorrow."   By  golly,  that  night 
he  said,  "Can  you  come  to  lunch?"   He  had  arranged  to  have 
Ted  Ciammings--whom  I  knew  slightly;  I  now  know  Ted  much 
better — and  me,  and  the  three  of  us  had  lunch.   Eliot  said, 
"Tell  Ted  your  story,"  and  I  walked  out  of  there  with  a 
check  for  $110,000,  because  the  story  was  the  same  one  I 
told  Eliot. 

"Targets  of  opportunity"  is  what  I  call  them.   I've 
never  been  much  interested  in  the  fund-raising  side  of 
going  out  and  getting  routine  money.   That's  more  for  the 
professional.   The  challenge  to  me  is  to  seize  a  target  of 

MINK:   In  other  words,  you  have  to  have  something  to  offer. 
MURPHY:   Right.   To  match  the  man  with  the  need.   And  that's 
fun.   Then  you're  really  putting  something  together.   Because 
the  great  satisfaction  that  I  have  about  raising  money  is 
the  satisfaction  that  the  donor  has  after  he's  given  it. 
And  you  know,  if  you  get  a  donor  who  gives  you  money,  and 
you  make  a  pitch,  and  a  lot  of  people  have  made  pitches  to 
him  before,  he  wonders  how  much  of  this  is  rhetoric  and 
how  much  of  it's  substance.   But  if  you  make  the  pitch, 
and  you  make  the  sale,  and  you  can  go  back  to  him  and  show 


him  that,  if  anything,  you  understated  the  opportunity 
for  him,  you  know,  you've  got  a  lifelong  friend  and  you've 
got  a  potential  resource. 

A  classic  example  is  Ed  Pauley.   We  knew  when  we  did 
the  Memorial  Activities  Center  that  to  really  do  it  right 
I  had  to  put  a  package  together.   I  finally  convinced  the 
state  that  for  certain  activities  they  owed  us  some  money, 
that  it  was  proper  for  them  to  put  some  money  up.   We  put 
together  a  package  for  the  alumni  to  raise.   (Those  were 
the  days  before--quite  mistakenly,  in  my  view — the  admin- 
istration gave  away  to  the  students  the  right  to  say  what 
would  happen  to  the  fees;  I  would  never  have  done  that. 
I'd  have  let  them  advise,  but  still  make  the  final  decision.) 
I  agreed  to  put  in  some  student  fee  money.   We  all  knew 
we  were  short  about  $1  million.   Okay.   Ed  Pauley  had 
already  given  $1  million  to  Berkeley  for  part  of  some 
ballroom  in  the  [Student]  Union.   I  knew  Ed's  deep  interest 
in  UCLA — we  were  great  personal  friends — but  above  all  else, 
I  knew  his  interest  in  athletics.   He  was  my  target,  then. 

I  remember  when  we  made  the  pitch.   I  asked  John 
Canaday  to  help  me  and  Ed  Carter.   And  it  was  at  Berkeley 
in  that  old  hotel  up  there,  the  Claremont  Hotel,  in  that 
cocktail  lounge.   Well,  we  got  him  after  a  regents'  meeting. 
We  all  sat  down  in  the  cocktail  lounge,  and  I  said,  "Ed, 
I  want  to  make  a  proposition  to  you."   He  said,  "What's 


that?"   And  so  I  made  it.   I  said,  "It's  going  to  be  a 
$5  million  structure.   It's  going  to  be  the  finest  indoor 
pavilion  in  Southern  California,  maybe  one  of  the  best  in 
the  United  States.   It's  going  to  be  multipurpose — basket- 
ball, public  events — and  if  you  will  give  us  $1  million, 
we  can  build  it,  because  we've  got  commitments  all  the  way 
around.   We've  got  a  $5  million  building  for  $1  million. 
And  it'll  be  called  Pauley  Pavilion."   (I  conceived  that 
name.)   And  I  said,  "Ed,  I'll  bet  you  that  the  name  Pauley 
Pavilion,  which  already  sounds  good  because  it's  allitera- 
tive, will  be  in  the  newspaper  more  than  Royce  Hall  or  the 
Dorothy  Chandler  Pavilion  or  anything  else." 
MINK:   Well,  after  [John]  Wooden  the  past  seven  years,  I 
guess  that's  true. 

MURPHY:   I  really  hadn't  counted  on  this.   But  in  any  event, 
you  knew  it  was  a  central  facility.   Well,  then  John  chimed 
in  a  little  bit;  Ed  Carter  chimed  in  a  little.   And  Ed 
finally  said  he  wanted  to  think  about  it  a  little  bit,  and 
then  he  came  back  and  he  said,  "Okay,  I'll  go."   And  I  said, 
"Now,  remember,  I  made  you  this  promise.   As  a  matter  of 
fact,  we're  going  to  open  it  with  a  nonathletic  event,  but 
it'll  be  jammed  for  athletic  events." 

Ed  Pauley  has  more  than  half  a  dozen  times  said  to  me, 
"You  know,  that's  the  only  gift  I  ever  gave  anybody  where 
the  performance  has  matched  the  pitch.   They  gave  me  an  even 


wilder  pitch  at  Berkeley,  and,"  he  said,  "I  should  have 
spent  my  million  dollars  for  something  entirely  different. 
As  I  look  back  on  it,  what  the  hell  is  a  ballroom?"   And 
he  said,  "You  know,  I  am  so  proud  of  that,  and  I'm  so  proud 
of  being  identified  in  such  a  constructive  and,  to  me,  happy 
way  with  the  University  of  California  that,"  he  said,  "you 
can  be  very  sure  at  my  death  I'll  not  forget  it." 

So  you  match  the  man's  interest  with  your  need.   To 
me,  that's  constructive  fund  raising.   The  other  kind  of 
fund  raising  is  more  routine.   Not  that  it  isn't  compli- 
cated, but  it  is  kind  of  routine.   Can  we  turn  that  off 
just  a  minute? 

MINK:   Sure.   [tape  recorder  turned  off] 
MURPHY:   All  right,  so  what's  next? 

MINK:   When  you  came,  as  far  as  the  idea  of  seeing  a  lack 
of  private  support  and  maybe  wanting  to  go  into  this  area 
of  private  support,  you  didn't  see  any  one  area  that  you 
thought  where  this  support  should  be  channeled  to  over 
another — no  priorities? 

MUPIPHY:   No,  not  really.   I  sort  of  didn't  mix  the  two 
together,  in  a  sense.   I  knew  that,  on  the  one  hand,  I  had 
my  own  ideas  of  things  that  I  felt  needed  to  be  strengthened 
and  built  up:   the  health  sciences,  the  library,  fine  arts. 
That  was  sort  of,  you  might  say,  the  academic  plan  or  pro- 
gram.  On  the  other  side,  there  was  the  whole  broad  area 


of  private  money:   private  money  from  alumni,  private 
money  from  foundations,  private  money  from  individuals 
in  the  community  with  special  interests.   Now,  to  the 
extent  possible,  you  put  those  two  together.   You  knew 
that  Jules  Stein  was  interested  in  ophthalmology,  and 
you  were  interested  in  building  up  the  medical  school; 
so  these  finally  come  together.   You  knew  that  Ed  Pauley 
was  interested  in  athletics;  you  had  made  a  commitment  to 
bring  athletics  back  to  the  campus.   V7ell,  these  two  things 
come  together.   If,  let  us  say,  there  had  been  a  wealthy 
man  interested  in  building  a  rare-book  library  because 
he  was  a  rare-book  collector,  I  could  have  gone  to  him  to 
get  a  wing  on  the  library.   So  this  is  the  question  of 
finding  the  interest  that  matches  the  need. 

But  then  beyond  that,  there's  the  general  flow  of 
money  which  is  unrestricted,  which  the  chancellor  can  then 
move.   I  had  the  Connell  endowment,  [Michael  J.  Connell 
Memorial  Fund],  and  I  finally  broke  that  loose  from  Berkeley. 
You  know,  that  Connell  endowment,  that's  done  so  much  around 
here,  when  I  came  here  you  couldn't  spend  a  nickel  of  it 
without  asking  Berkeley.   And  yet  it  was  given  to  us .   I 
got  that  done  in  the  first  couple  of  years.   And  as  I  look 
back,  I  can't  believe;  I  repeat:   If  we  had  been  permitted 
the  same  operational  thing  at  the  beginning  that  we  had  in 
the  end,  I'd  have  had  hundreds  of  hours  to  be  doing  the 


constructive  things,  getting  more  money  out  of  the  commun- 
ity, working  with  the  Rockefeller  and  the  Ford  foundations 
instead  of  fighting  with  these  people  up  north.   It  was  so 
wasteful.   But  the  main  thing,  I  think,  has  been  that  a 
tradition  of  private  giving  has  now  really  been  established. 
And  I  think  the  momentum  is  up,  and  I  think  there's  only 
one  way  to  go. 

MINK:   When  you  first  came  here,  did  you  notice  an  anti- 
pathy from  the  private  institutions  against  tapping  of 
private  funds  for  this  institution? 

MURPHY:   Oh,  yes.   As  a  matter  of  fact,  not  only  antipathy, 
but  it  was  pretty  bitter.   So  I  finally  sat  down  with  Norman 
Topping  at  lunch — Norman  Topping  had  been  at  USC--and  Lee 
DuBridge  of  Caltech.   I  said,  "Now,  look.   Let's  be  rational 
and  reasonable  about  this." 

MINK:   Did  you  have  them  both  at  the  same  lunch? 
MURPHY:   Yes.   I  said,  "There  are  two  kinds  of  money  that 
you  cannot  deny  us  the  right  of  getting.   Number  one,  going 
to  our  alumni--annual  fund  raising,  whatever.   This  is  true 
of  every  private  or  public  university  in  America."   They 
agreed.   I  said,  "Secondly,  you  cannot  deny  us  the  right  to 
accept  money  from  the  individual  who,  let  us  say,  has  a 
particular  interest  in  medicine  or  medical  history  or  some- 
thing, who  says,  'I  want  to  give  $1  million  to  build  an 
eye  institute.'   It's  either  going  to  be  built  at  UCLA  or 


it  isn't  going  to  be  built  at  all.   Now,  given  those 
two  rights,  I  make  a  compact  with  you  that  we  will  have 
no  large-scale  fund  raising  at  UCLA  on  an  annual  basis 
that  goes  out  beyond  the  alumni,  where  you  tap  every 
corporation  and  every  this  or  that.   That  should  be  your 

So  we  reached  an  agreement,  and  we've  pretty  well 
stuck  to  it,  I  guess,  from  what  I  can  gather.   We  certainly 
did  during  my  time.   The  only  area  we  had  some  trouble  with 
off  and  on  was  the  school  of  business. 
MINK:   Yes,  I  was  going  to  bring  it  up. 

MURPHY:   Obviously,  you've  got  graduates  that  are  going 
into  businesses,  and  they  want  it.   So  I  finally  got 
Topping  and  DuBridge  to  agree  that  to  the  extent  that 
corporations  wanted  to  make  grants  to  the  UCLA  school 
of  business  it  was  okay,  but  we  would  not  go  to  the  corp- 
orations for  general  support  of  the  university. 
MINK:   Which  I  think  had  been  done,  like  Jacoby  had  gotten 
together  ninety  big  corporations  at  a  luncheon  meeting  and 
raised  $90,000. 
MURPHY:   That's  right. 

MINK:   I  think  that  this  is  what  made  the  bomb  go  off. 
MURPHY:   Yes.   Well,  we  had  to  cool  that  back,  and  then 
I  had  to  go  back  to  DuBridge  and  Topping.   And  I  finally 
said,  "Well,  look,  it  is  quite  wrong  for  the  dean  of  the 


medical  school  to  start  a  big  fund-raising  drive  among 
California  corporations,  or  for  Don  Bowman  or  Doug  Kinsey 
to  go  out  and  ask  every  corporation  to  give  them  $2,500 
for  the  general  support  of  the  university.   That's  just 
wrong.   But,"  I  said,  "you've  got  to  accept  the  fact  that 
to  go  to  General  Electric  to  ask  for  a  fellowship  in  the 
school  of  business  is  not  unreasonable,  because  they're 
taking  our  graduates."   So  we  sort  of  got  over  that.   That 
was  the  only  rough  problem  I  had. 

Topping  was  very  supportive.   He  and  I  worked  out 
an  arrangement.   I'd  go  down  and  testify  before  the  city 
council  on  behalf  of  USC  and  the  urban  redevelopment  when 
that  was  in  trouble;  Topping  would  encourage  his  legisla- 
tive friends  to  support  the  university  appropriation.   So 
I  think  that  worked  out  pretty  well. 

MINK:   That  was  probably  the  first  kind  of  rapprochement 
that  had  ever  been  worked  out  with  the  University  of 
Southern  California. 

MURPHY:   That's  what  Norman  said.   Norman  said  that  that 
was  the  beginning.   And  Norman  and  I  agreed,  why  fight? 
We  agreed  on  philosophy,  that  instead  of  assuming  that  the 
pie  was  limited  and  you  were  fighting  each  other  to  get  a 
bigger  piece  of  the  pie,  that  we  would  try  to  jointly 
enlarge  the  whole  pie — and  therefore,  the  same  percentage 
piece  is  always  larger — and  that  we  hang  together  or  we 


hang  separately.   Topping  and  I  had  a  warm  relationship, 
and  I  think  I  agree  that  by  that  time  UCLA  was  stopping 
feeling  its  inferiority.   You  know,  you  can  always  act 
like  a  statesman  if  you've  got  some  security,  a  sense  of 
security.   And  UCLA,  by  that  time,  had  grown  up,  was  growing 
up,  and  we  were  able  to  tell  the  faculty  and  the  students, 
"Look,  you  can  stop  being  hangdog.   You're  a  first-rate 
institution."   I  must  say,  though,  part  of  that  Berkeley 
problem  always  was  the  fact  that  these  people  down  here  had 
been  hit  over  the  head  for  so  long  that  they  really  had  a 
kind  of  conditioned  reflex.   They  wouldn't  fight.   And  in 
the  end,  you  know,  that  disappeared,  happily. 


TAPE  NUMBER:   V,  Side  1 
DECEMBER  6,  1973 

MINK:   This  afternoon,  Dr.  Murphy,  I'd  like  to  ask  you 
first  of  all,  in  connection  with  the  development  of  fine 
arts  at  UCLA,  what  you  saw  when  you  came  here,  what  the 
scene  seemed  to  be  like  to  you? 

MURPHY:   Well,  I'd  start  by  saying  that  in  a  way  it  was 
rather  spotty.   There  were  some  very  great  positives. 
The  tradition  of  Royce  Hall  being  the  cultural  center  for 
not  really  West  Los  Angeles  but  in  some  respects  for  the 
entire  city  was  already  well  established,  with  Frances 
Inglis  laying  on  really  extraordinarily  professional  pro- 
grams at  Royce  for  students,  faculty,  and  for  the  community, 
That  was  a  great  positive.   Fred  Wight  and  the  UCLA  Art 
Council  had  begun  to  get  the  UCLA  galleries  going,  again  in 
a  very  sophisticated  fashion.   They  hadn't  geared  up  to 
their  ultimate  heights,  but  that  show  was  on  the  road  quite 
clearly.   Abbott  Kaplan  was  in  the  process  of  building  the 
Theatre  Group  on  the  campus,  which  was,  as  you  will  recall, 
enormously  professional  theater,  as  good  as  one  could  see 
off -Broadway  or  any  other  place.   So  it  was  perfectly  clear 
that  important  things  were  under  way  involving  very  gifted 
people . 

On  the  other  hand,  there  was  something  called  the 


Department  of  Applied  Arts — maybe  the  School  of  Applied 
Arts--which  was  kind  of  a  bouillabaisse,  physical  educa- 
tion and  art  history,  etc.,  etc.   I  should  also  add  that 
the  physical  plant  for  the  theater  was  rudimentary.   In 
fact,  the  physical  plant  for  the  arts  was  rudimentary: 
a  fine  building  for  music,  a  good  building  for  art  but  much 
too  small,  and  practically  nothing  for  the  theater.   So 
it  was  a  varied  picture. 

But  above  everything  else,  it  was  clear  to  me  that 
within  the  faculty  and  within  the  community  there  was  a 
real  hunger  and  thirst  for  vitality  in  the  arts.   So  we 
began  to  make  several  moves  almost  in  parallel.   The  first 
one  was  an  administrative  one.   I  quickly  decided  that  we 
needed  to  have  something  called  the  College  of  Fine  Arts, 
to  include  music,  drama,  art  and  art  history,  the  performing 
arts,  theater,  and  the  dance.   And  all  of  the  other  things 
should  be  stripped  away  and  put  in  the  College  of  Letters 
and  Science  or,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  eliminated. 
MINK:   Had  there  been  a  committee  of  the  faculty  appointed 
to  look  into  this  before  you  came,  or  were  you  instrumental 
in  getting  this  committee  appointed? 

MURPHY:   Really,  my  memory's  vague  here.   There  could  have 
been  a  committee  just  beginning  to  look  into  it,  or  maybe 
I  appointed  the  committee.   I  just  don't  remember  that. 
MINK:   You  remember  that  home  economics  was  included  as 


part  of  this  applied  arts. 

MURPHY:   Oh,  I  remember  very  well. 

MINK:   And  that  was  one  area  that  they  wanted  to  move  out 

along  with  some  of  the  others. 

MURPHY:   And  I  think  physical  education,  military  science; 

it  was  a  bouillabaisse.   The  problem  of  home  economics  was 

a  special  one,  because  you  remember  I  finally  eliminated  that 

department;  I  moved  it  out  and  then  eliminated  it.   I  must 

say,  I  had  more  angry  women  writing  me  from  all  over  the 

state  of  California  than  you  get  angry  alumni  when  you  lose 

to  use  at  football. 

In  any  event,  this  was  accomplished  within  a  year  or 
two.   And  I  wanted  the  College  of  Fine  Arts  to  really  be 
germane.   I  just  didn't  want  it  to  be  a  department  where 
people  dabbled  in  the  arts.   I  wanted  to  have  programs 
where  people  were  professionally  trained  as  well  as  service 
programs  for  nonmajors.   This  was  one  of  the  main  factors 
that  led  to  my  appointment  of  Bill  Melnitz  as  the  first 
dean  of  the  new  school,  because  Bill  was  a  pro.   He'd  been 
trained,  as  you  know,  by  Max  Reinhardt;  he'd  been  a  profes- 
sional theater  director  in  Germany;  and  he  knew  what  pro- 
fessional quality  was  in  the  arts.   Yet  Bill  had  been  around 
the  university  long  enough  to  understand  some  of  the  special 
problems  that  the  arts  have  in  the  university. 
MINK:   Did  you  find  that  there  was  much  opposition  to  what 


you  wanted  to  do  among  the  faculty,  the  old-guard  faculty? 
MURPHY:   A  great  deal.   And  they  were  not  unique.   The  arts 
have  never  been  regarded  by  the  so-called  Germanic- type 
scholars  as  an  appropriate  subject  for  university  activity. 
They  say  it's  perfectly  all  right  to  study  the  rhyme  of 
Shakespeare,  but  it's  not  appropriate  for  a  university  to 
play  Shakespeare  the  way  Shakespeare  intended.   Shakespeare 
never,  I  think,  assumed  there 'd  be  people  devoting  hours 
and  hours,  theses  and  all  the  rest,  to  what  he  did  at  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning  or  where  he  went  to  bed  at  night  or 
with  whom  he  went  to  bed  at  night.   Shakespeare  wrote  for 
the  theater.   I  can't  understand  how  anybody  can  understand 
Shakespeare  without  seeing  Shakespeare  played.   Well,  anyway, 
that's  another  subject  entirely. 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  opposition.   There  still  is, 
I  suspect,  in  certain  quarters.   This  is  true  in  American 
universities;  it's  true  in  German  universities;  it's  true 
in  English  universities.   But  I  will  say  that  in  my  lifetime 
in  university  work,  the  arts  have  come  a  long  way  to  being 
fully  accepted  in  professional  terms  in  colleges  and  univer- 
sities.  I  think  that  the  day  will  come  when  nobody  will  be 
surprised  that  you're  training  a  lawyer,  that  you're  training 
a  doctor,  or  that  you're  training  an  actor,  or  that  you're 
training  a  director,  or  you're  training  a  painter,  who  intend 
to  make  their  living  doing  that. 


But  we  had  no  real  problems  creating  the  college, 
no  problems  in  the  appointment  of  Bill  as  dean.   But  then, 
as  Bill  got  into  the  remodeling  of  the  curriculiom,  and  as 
we  began  to  talk  about  appointment  of  professional  people 
to  these  departments  rather  than  somebody  who  just  talked 
about  the  theater,  we  began  to  have  tensions  within  the 
Academic  Senate  and  faculty. 

MINK:   The  old  question  of  publications  and  that  sort  of 
thing . 

MURPHY:   Yes.   My  theory  always  was  that  a  theater  direc- 
tor isn't  supposed  to  publish;  he's  supposed  to  direct. 
So  let's  not  compare  apples  and  pears.   Remember  early  on 
about  this  apple-pear  problem.   I  might  say  that  it  was  in 
the  area  of  the  fine  arts  where  we  first  began  to  have 
this  struggle.   It  spilled  over  into  other  disciplines. 
MINK:   In  the  professional  schools  as  well,  I'm  sure. 
MURPHY:   Well,  that  was  the  first  major  move.   Secondly, 
I  threw — as  I  think  Abbott  Kaplan  and  Gordon  Davidson  and 
John  Houseman  will  tell  you — my  total  support  behind  the 
Theatre  Group.   This  we  managed  to  do  pretty  well  with 
because  we  didn't  have  to  deal  with  the  Academic  Senate; 
this  was  in  extension.   And  it  became,  as  you  know,  a  very 
distinguished  group  and  finally  moved  to  the  Music  Center, 
which  I  think  was  proper  because  that  more  broadly  serves 
the  general  public. 


We  also  modified  the  long-range  building  program 
to  expedite  the  building  of  the  North  Campus.   And  you  will 
recall  that  included  theater-- two  units  in  the  theater, 
actually,  one  for  the  theater  and  one  for  motion  pictures 
and  television.   We  expedited  the  new  Dickson  Art  Center 
for  art  higher  on  the  priority  list  for  the  building  and 
thus  were  able  to  create  that  beautiful  North  Campus  with 
the  sculpture  court,  which  I'll  get  back  to  in  a  moment. 
MINK:   I  might  say  in  this  respect,  did  you  encounter 
problems  in  the  overall  campus  planning  committee,  where 
they  opposed  the  development  of  this  area,  say,  as  opposed 
to  the  development  of  other  areas  within  the  university? 
MURPHY:   Well,  yes.   You  know,  everybody  wants  their 
building  now.   But  I  just  made  up  my  mind  that  I  was  going 
to  see  two  things  happen,  if  nothing  else.   Happily,  a  few 
other  things  happened,  too.   One  was  to  get  that  North 
Campus  built,  to  create  an  environment  for  the  arts;  and 
the  other, was  to  finish  the  Medical  Center,  including  the 
Schools  of  Public  Health  and  Dentistry.   And  sure,  I  had 
opposition.   But  as  I  told  you  earlier,  I  assumed  I  was 
the  boss.   I  listened  to  everybody  and  then  said,  "We're 
not  going  to  take  a  vote.   This  is  the  way  it's  going  to 
be."   And  that's  the  way  it  turned  out.   Now,  in  addition, 
we  got  a  lot  of  other  things  done  too,  fortunately.   We 
got  the  [University]  Research  Library  done — two-thirds  of 


it,  anyway — and  we  got  some  major  additions  to  chemistry, 
geology,  physics,  engineering,  mathematics.   But  these  two 
were  very  high  priority:   the  arts  and  the  medical  school-- 
or  the  health  sciences,  really,  which  is  medicine,  dentistry, 
nursing,  public  health,  and  the  hospital. 

Anyway,  back  to  the  arts.   One  of  my  failures,  I'll 
mention  very  quickly.   It,  to  me,  is  a  tragic  and  a  classic 
example  of  this  nonsense  between  writing  about  an  art  or 
doing  it.   One  day  I  had  a  phone  call,  within  two  or  three 
years  after  I'd  come.   I'd  met  Jascha  Heifetz  through 
mutual  friends.   And  Jascha  said  he  wanted  to  come  see  me, 
and  he  said  that  he  and  Gregor  Piatigorsky  and  William 
Primrose  (and  here  were  the  three  preeminent  string  players 
in  the  world  on  the  three  different  instruments — the  violin, 
the  viola,  and  the  cello) ,  that  Bill  Primrose  was  going  to 
come  to  California  to  live  (Grischa  and  Jascha  were  already 
here),  and  they  were  going  to  do  a  lot  of  trio,  quartet 
music.   And  would  UCLA  be  interested  in  their  teaching 
master  classes,  coming  on  the  faculty?   Well,  now,  here 
you  had  laid  out  on  a  platter  three  of  the  giants  in  this 
field.   So  I  jumped  with  joy.   I  said,  "Jascha,  no  problem. 
I'll  be  back  to  you  quickly." 

I  promptly  got  hold  of  Melnitz,  who  was  very  excited, 
and  then  we  got  the  music  people  in.   And  you  will  not 
believe  it,  but  to  a  man  they  said,  no.   No,  these  are  not 


musicologists.   These  are  not  historians  of  music.   They 
haven't  written  any  papers.   The  problem  was,  unfortunately, 
with  a  few  exceptions,  many  of  the  members  of  the  music 
department  were  scholars,  not  professional  musicians.   That's 
why  they  were  in  the  university.   And  this  was  a  defensive 
thing;  this  is  the  insecurity  of  the  inadequate. 

Well,  I  was  fresh  and  young  here  at  the  time  and  still 
feeling  my  way  through  the  Academic  Senate  process,  the 
appointment  process.   But  we  pulled  and  hauled  and  twisted, 
and  I  finally  got  extension.   Abbott  Kaplan,  needless  to  say, 
was  enthusiastic  about  the  idea.   But  then  the  courses  had 
to  be  credited  by  the  Academic  Senate,  and  the  music  depart- 
ment dissented;  and  to  make  a  long  story  short,  these  three 
people,  I  finally  had  to  say  we  just  couldn't  fit  them  in. 
And  they  went  down  to  USC.   Gifted  students  of  the  strings 
come  from  all  over  the  United  States  and  the  world  to  work 
on  a  selective  basis  with  Jascha  and  Grischa.   Bill  Primrose 
has  subsequently  died.   But  it's  this  kind  of  nonsense  and 
this  kind  of  sophistry  and  this  kind  of  defensiveness  that 
has  created  problems  for  we  administrators  who  are  determined 
to  see  that  the  practice  of  the  arts  have  a  proper  role  in 
university  curriculum.   So  that  was  one  abject  failure, 
and  it  illustrates  the  problem. 

Now,  going  beyond  this,  then,  a  little  bit,  you've 
got  the  building  program  going,  and  I  was  determined.   I 


felt  that  we  ought  to  build  out  on  the  West  Coast  a  dis- 
tinguished department  of  art  history.   Berkeley  has  a  good 
one.   At  that  time,  Stanford  had  nothing.   Subsequently 
Stanford  has  build  a  very  fine  Department  of  Art  History. 
But  really  west  of  Chicago  there  was  nothing  of  distinction. 
All  on  the  East  Coast:   Columbia  Institute  of  Fine  Arts, 
the  Fogg  Museum  at  Harvard,  Yale,  Princeton,  University  of 
Chicago.   Well,  in  order  to  attract  good  art  historians 
you  have  to  have  a  distinguished  art  history  library.   So 
we  set  about  to  build  that  section.   And  I  scouted  around, 
got  a  lot  of  money--more  money  than  I  thought  I  could.   I 
also  convinced  my  friend  Bob  Goheen  of  Princeton  to  let  us 
have  one  of  the  few  copies  of  the  Index  of  Christian  Art, 
which  is  an  indispensable  tool  for  the  art  historian,  as 
well  as  for  other  scholars  of  that  period  in  other  fields. 
We  put  a  lot  of  money  in  the  slide  collection,  the  photo- 
graphic collection,  to  build  up  these  scholarly  resources 
to   We  had  practically  nothing  in  this  area  to 
begin  with.   We  do  now  have,  I  think,  one  of  the  best  sort 
of  archival  bibliographic  resources  in  the  West  for  the 
young  art  historian  or  the  older  one.   But  unfortunately, 
I  didn't  get  very  far  in  building  the  quality  of  the  depart- 
ment.  It's  still  an  average  department.   It  ought  to  be  a 
distinguished  department.   And  here  again  I  was  stymied,  I 
think,  by  the  existence  within  that  department  of  some  very 


pedestrian  people  who  were  defensive,  insecure,  and  really 
stymied  Bill  and  me  in  getting  the  people  to  come.   But  the 
base  is  there,  and  I  think  Charles  Speroni  understands  this 
now.   There 've  been  some  fortunate  retirements  in  that  depart- 
ment, and  there'll  be  some  highly  fortunate  ones  in  the  very 
near  future,  and  they  now  have  a  chance  to  really  build  some 
distinction  within  their  department.   I'm  at  least  pleased 
that  the  physical  resources  are  there  and  the  library  and 
the  archival  resources  are  there. 

In  theater,  the  program  has  always  been  good.   It  still 
isn't  quite  as  professional  as  it  ought  to  be,  but  [Kenneth] 
Macgowan  was  an  extraordinary  man,  a  combination  scholar, 
writer,  and  director.   Remember,  he'd  worked  with  O'Neill 
and  also  worked  in  the  motion  picture  industry  but  was  a 
very  gifted  writer.   Some  of  the  books  he  and  Melnitz  did 
are  classics  in  history  of  the  theater.   They  have  a  phys- 
ical resource,  I  think,  second  to  none  to  lay  on  good  pro- 
gramming; and  here  again  it's  just  a  question  of  getting 
the  faculty  to  understand  that  you've  got  to  have  a  couple 
of  truly  distinguished  professionals,  and  then  the  thing 
goes--like  [George  Pierce]  Baker  at  Harvard  at  one  time. 

Television  and  radio,  we  really  were  on  the  way  to 
building  a  truly  distinguished  program,  and  I  think  it's 
still  a  very  good  program,  with  Colin  Young  who  was  recruited 
away  just  in  my  last  year  by  the  British  government;  and  in 


fact,  the  reason  he  went  back  was  that  the  government 
mandated  him  to  build  a  film  school  in  London,  or  just 
outside  of  London,  for  all  of  Great  Britain.   That  program 
is  spotty,  but  by  and  large  it's  certainly  one  of  the  two 
or  three  best  in  the  country.   And  I  think  it  retains  that 
quality.   We  tried  to  help  that.   We  got  a  lot  of  resources, 
foundation  grants — the  Louis  B.  Mayer  Foundation  was  very 
generous — and  federal  grants  of  consequence.   Again,  they've 
got  superlative  quarters,  and  it's  just  a  question  of 
agreeing  to  get  good  people  and  continuing  to  build. 

In  the  practice  of  the  arts,  the  practicing  arts, 
that  faculty  has  grown,  I  think.   A  giant  step  forward 
was  when  we  were  able  to  recruit  Richard  Diebenkorn.   And 
here  again,  you  have  this  old  problem  of  the  senate  mechan- 
ism and  def ensiveness .   Fred  Wight  was  successful  in  getting 
Dick  to  come  down  here  from  the  north.   Diebenkorn  is  cer- 
tainly one  of  the  half-dozen  most  distinguished  practicing 
painters  in  America  today,  so  recognized.   But  I  have  to 
tell  you  frankly  that  Dick  either  has  resigned  or  is  going 
to  resign,  because  he  told  his  colleagues  that  he'd  do  all 
the  teaching  he  was  supposed  to,  he  liked  teaching  this  and 
that,  but  he  didn't  want  to  do  administration.   He  was  a 
painter,  a  teacher.   Well,  his  colleagues,  who  obviously 
are  jealous  of  him,  because  none  of  them  have  ever  come 
close  to  him  in  stature,  told  him — at  least,  certain  of 


them — that  he  had  to  do  this.   Everybody  rotated  in  this 
administration.   Dick  said,  "Well,  if  that's  the  choice, 
I'm  going  to  stay  in  Venice "--or  Santa  Monica  or  wherever 
it  is — "and  paint."   So  again,  it's  the  problem  of  how  do 
you  get  and  keep  gifted  people,  even  when  you've  got  the 
physical  resources  for  them. 

I  guess  the  next  thing  I'd  take  note  of  was  our  deter- 
mination when  we  were  planning  this  North  Campus  area  mainly 
for  the  fine  arts,  I  did  want  to  make  a  rather  beautiful 
area  out  of  it.   All  my  life  in  academia,  I've  believed 
that  a  university  campus  ought  to  be  a  good  deal  more  than 
just  efficient  and  functional,  that  it  ought  to  have  beauty 
in  it;  because  I  think  that  young  people  should  be  encouraged 
to  grow  up  in  the  presence  of  beauty,  to  think  of  art  as 
something  you  live  with  rather  than  something  you  just  look 
at.   And  when  I  was  at  Kansas,  I  had  engaged  in  a  program  of 
building  a  few  fountains  here  and  there  and  putting  some 
sculpture  around  the  campus,  and  I  conceived  that  this  was 
really  a  superlative  opportunity. 

So  I  got  together  with  Ralph  Cornell  and  our  landscape 
architects  and  explained  what  it  was  I  wanted — namely,  a 
sculpture  garden,  mainly  on  the  grass  but  also  flowing  into 
the  brick  in  the  plaza  of  the  art  building,  really  flowing 
the  other  way.   And  they  said,  "Well,  what  sculptures?" 
And  I  said,  "I  have  none,  but  forget  about  that.   My 


responsibility  is  to  find  the  sculptures;  you  design  an 
area  where  we  will  put  the  sculpture."   Well,  you  know, 
we  had  to  guess.   There 'd  be  some  monumental  pieces,  some 
smaller  pieces,  middle-sized  pieces. 

About  that  time,  when  we  were  engaging  in  this  dialogue, 
Fred  Wight  and  the  UCLA  Art  Council  laid  on  that  great 
Lipchitz  show.   (I  guess  it  was  the  first  major  Lipchitz 
show  that  had  ever  been  held.)   And  of  course  the  major 
piece  in  it  was  the  Song  of  the  Vowels .   And  Lillian  Weiner, 
who  was  very  active  in  the  Art  Council  then — and  still  is, 
for  that  matter;  a  close  friend  of  Norton  Simon  and  Lucille 
Simon,  to  whom  Norton  was  then  married — heard  me  talking 
about  this  one  day,  and  she  said,  "Franklin,  why  don't  we 
get  the  Song  of  the  Vowels?"   I  think  the  cost  of  that  piece 
then  was  $90,000,   Today,  I  don't  know — $300,000.   I  said, 
"That's  great,  but  where  do  we  find  the  money?"   She  said, 
"Let  me  talk  to  Norton."   So  again,  to  make  that  long  story 
short,  the  Simons  gave  half  the  money,  and  the  Art  Council 
put  up  the  balance.   So  we  had  the  first  piece.   And  we  knew 
where  that  would  go,  because  of  its  monumentality  and  the 
rest  of  it.   But  here  were  many  places,  areas--now  that  the 
design  was  going  forward--for  so  many  pieces  of  sculpture. 

Then  happened  one  of  those  extraordinary  things  which 
is  tragic  but  also  fortunate,  depending  upon  what  side  of 
the  coin  you  examine.   There  was  at  that  time  living  in  Los 


Angeles,  in  Holmby  Hills,  a  very  competent,  capable  busi- 
nessman called  David  Bright,  who  had  made  a  great  deal  of 
money  in  the  cable  television  business.   He  was  a  great 
collector,  great  eye,  great  enthusiasm.   And  his  great 
Holmby  Hills  estate  was  just  filled  with  sculpture.   Very 
important  pieces.   He  was  a  member  of  the  Art  Council  at 
UCLA,  also  on  the  board  of  the  L.A.  County  Museum  of  Art. 
He  told  me  en  passant  that  he  had  in  his  will — now,  he  was 
a  young  man  in  his  fifties,  so  we  thought  we  were  talking 
about  thirty  years  from  now--that  he  had  willed  a  certain 
proportion  of  his  paintings  to  UCLA,  a  certain  proportion 
to  the  L.A.  County  Museum  of  Art,  and  the  balance  of  his 
art  to  his  widow,  and  then  there  were  pieces  that  were  joint 
property  of  both  of  them.   The  widow  was  Dolly  Bright — I 
mean,  his  wife.   Well,  as  I  say,  tragically  he  died  suddenly, 
just  about  the  time  this  garden  was  ready  to  come  on-stream; 
it  was  in  construction. 

So  here  we  were,  needing  lots  of  sculpture,  having 
been  willed  an  important  collection  of  paintings,  and  with 
his  widow  not  wishing  to  live  in  this  great  big  estate.   So 
logic  prevailed.   I  sat  down  with  her,  and  I  said,  "Look, 
Dolly,  we  have  paintings,  you  have  the  sculpture.   Let's 
trade  them,  because  you  can  put  the  paintings  no  matter 
where  you  live,  an  apartment  or  what."   Great  idea,  as  far 
as  she  was  concerned.   We  got  appraisals  so  everything  was 


very  legal,  and  I  got  the  regents  to  agree  to  this  trade. 
Overnight  we  had  ten  very  important  pieces  of  sculpture: 
the  Lipchitz  cubist  period.  The  Bather,  the  Calder,  the 
Chadwick,  the  Barbara  Hepworth,  etc.,  etc.,  and  of  course 
the  great  Henry  Moore.   Well,  what  was  it  Andy  Hamilton 
said?   "The  Lord  protects  or  looks  over  sculpture-ridden 
chancellors,"  or  something  of  that  sort.   At  that  point 
we  had  a  critical  mass,  and  of  course  since  then  pieces 
have  come,  as  in  fact  I  knew  they  would  once  you  get  the 
magnet.   And  I'm  prejudiced,  obviously,  but  others  tell  me 
who  are,  I  think,  objective  that  they  regard  this  as  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  sculpture  gardens  in  the  United  States, 
if  not  anywhere  in  the  world.   And  the  reason  I  think  they 
do  is  that  it's  laid  about  so  people  live  with  it. 

There  was  a  group  from  the  East  out  the  other  day  and 
wanted  to  see  it.   Mrs.  Murphy  and  I  went  out  with  them  and 
had  a  little  tea  and  showed  them  around.   They  were  commenting 
on  this,  because  the  students  were  there  studying  and  leaning 
against  them  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  and  the  point  was  that 
this  was  unlike  the  sculpture  garden  in  the  Museum  of  Modern 
Art  where  people  have  to  go  into  the  building  and  go  by 
guards  and  then  go  out  in  a  cluttered  area.   But  it  was  a 
place  where  people  lived. 

I  said,  yes,  that  the  greatest  compliment  and  the 
greatest  thrill  I'd  ever  gotten  out  of  the  garden  was  when 


a  few  years  ago,  after  I'd  left  UCLA,  I  ran  into  a  young 
couple  at  the  Music  Center,  at  some  performance.   They  came 
up  to  me  and  said,  "Dr.  Murphy,  we're  So-and-so.   We  were 
at  UCLA  when  you  were  there,  subsequently  married."   And  I 
said,  "Well,  that's  fine,"  and  so  forth.   They  kind  of  looked 
at  each  other  and  smiled,  and  then  the  girl,  the  young  woman, 
turned  to  me,  and  she  said,  "We'd  like  to  tell  you  something. 
Our  first  child  was  conceived  in  your  sculpture  garden." 
And  I  said,  "My  dear,  that's  the  nicest  thing  I've  ever 
heard."   Because  that's  what  it's  for:   it  is  to  live  in 
and  with  and  so  forth.   Well,  that  of  course  takes  care  of 
that  part  of  the  thing. 

I  guess  finally  we  can  talk  about  the  ethnic  arts, 
that  is  to  say,  what  some  people  call  "primitive  art. " 
I  think  that's  an  awful  term.   It's  actually  highly  soph- 
isticated art.   The  proper  term,  I  guess,  is  an  explanatory 
one.   It  should  be  called  the  "highly  sophisticated  art  of 
technologically  primitive  people."   But  in  any  event,  I  have 
long,  as  you  can  see,  personally  been  interested  in  the  art 
of  technologically  primitive  people,  whether  it  be  Africa 
or  pre-Columbian  America  or  Oceania,  because  in  many  ways, 
to  me  it's  the  most  honest  art.   It's  art  created  for  a 
purpose — although  that  used  to  be  true  of  Western  art. 
After  all,  the  frescoes  painted  in  the  early  Renaissance 
for  the  church  were  there  to  teach  illiterate  people  the 


story  of  the  Bible.   So  it  was  a  functional  art  even  then. 
But  in  these  latter  years,  as  I,  like  everybody  else,  began 
to  puzzle  a  little  bit  as  to  how  you  explain  to  Africans 
who  by  way  of  slavery  had  been  chopped  off  from  their 
cultural  roots,  or  the  Mexican-Americans  here  in  the  South- 
west who  really  again,  in  a  sense,  were  chopped  off  from 
their  [roots] ,  how  do  you  explain  to  these  people  that  they 
have  a  right  to  cultural  self-confidence  just  as  much  as 
an  Italian  or  a  German  or  a  Frenchman.   And  of  course,  it 
is  their  art,  it  has  always  seemed  to  me .   I  therefore 
wanted  early  on  to  create  a  program  at  UCLA  in  the  ethnic 
arts.   I  felt  that  no  university  had  really  done  it  well, 
and  that  it  was  overdue.   After  all,  the  world  is  getting 
a  lot  smaller;  people  are  exploring  in  a  much  more  intimate, 
in-depth  way  the  very  different  cultures  of  other  people. 
And  in  my  view,  the  best  way  to  get  to  the  cultural  commit- 
ment of  the  people  is  through  their  art — music,  sculpture, 
painting,  dance--depending  upon  the  culture. 

Well,  I  began  talking  about  this  at  UCLA  and  discovered 
that  nobody  was  interested  in  it.   The  art  department  were 
only  interested  in  Western  art,  maybe  the  art  of  China  and 
South  Asia.   The  people  there  didn't  regard  this  as  art; 
they  regarded  it  as  artifacts.   They  said,  "That  belongs 
to  the  anthropologist."   So  I  go  in  to  the  anthropologists, 
and  they  said,  "Oh,  that's  the  nineteenth-century  material 


culture   of    the   Germans.       We're  much  more   advanced   now. 
We're    talking    about    the   psychology  of    the   natives   and 
the  Freudian   approach  to   examining  matrilineal    things." 
So   the   anthropologists   regarded   them   as   tools;    the   art 
historians   regarded   them   as   primitive    scribbling. 

So   what  do   you   do    if    you're   determined    to   do    something 
about    it?      Well,    I   decided    to    bring    in    somebody,    and    I    found 
Ralph  Altman.      Well,    Ralph  had   one  great   problem:       he   didn't 
have   the   PhD   degree.       So    I    had    to    sort   of    smuggle   him    into 
the   university.      Anthropology  didn't   want   him    because   he 
didn't    have   the    PhD   degree;    the   art    historians   didn't    want 
him   because   he   didn't   have   the   PhD   degree    in   that   field, 
except   that   he    just   happened   to   know  more   about   primitive   art 
than   ten   PhD's.      And    he   was,    above   everything   else,    a 
cultivated    human    being. 

(You    know,    that's   one    interesting    thing    I've   discovered. 
And   that    is,    that   the   one   thing — there   are  many   things,    but 
certainly  one   thing    the   PhD   does  not   give   anybody,    and 
that    is   cultivation.       I've    seen    some   of    the  most   uncul- 
tivated  boors   who   had    the   PhD,    and    some   of    the  most   cultivated, 
gifted,    stimulating,    creative   people   who   never    had   the   PhD 
degree.      It's  one  of    the  curses  of   the  university  that   that 
badge   has   to   be    so   often   required   for   creative,    stimulating 
teaching    or   research. ) 

Whfen  Ralph  came,    there  wasn't  even  an  office  for   him, 


and  there  was  no  budget,  there  was  no  money.   So  we  just 
carved  it  out.   And  with  his  energy  and  his  commitment 
and  loyalty  and  dedication,  and  with  my  ability  to  find 
a  few  dollars  here  and  there,  and — if  I  may  use  a  word  so 
bold — my  power  to  tell  people  to  clear  out  the  basement 
of  one  of  the  buildings,  we  got  something  started. 
MINK:   You  did  have  on  the  music  side  the  beginnings  of 
the  Institute  of  Ethnomusicology  with  Mantle  Hood,  though. 
MURPHY:   Yes,  I  was  going  to  come  to  that.   Mantle  was 
already  here,  but  Mantle  never  really  got  involved  in  this 
thing  of  Ralph's.   To  him  even  though  many  of  his  musical 
instr\iments  were  works  of  art,  he  didn't  really  care;  he 
didn't  want  his  materials  commingled.   They  were  musical 
instruments.   Again,  this  is  the  stupidity  of  these  classical 
boundaries.   I  don't  know  whether  you  should  talk  about  a 
Renaissance  man,  but  at  least  you  ought  to  talk  about  a  flex- 
ible man,  who's  not  possessive  and  who  says,  "Sure,  I  use 
it,  but  you  use  it,  too,"  because  these  things  serve  many 
purposes  in  different  cultures. 

Well,  by  main  force,  and  Ralph's  energy  and  knowledge 
and  connections  and  commitments,  we  got  a  show  on  the  road. 
Objects,  very  few,  dribbling  in,  and  then  all  of  a  sudden 
a  remarkable  development.   There  was  here  at  that  time — 
one  of  the  great  losses  to  UCLA  was  his  death — Professor 
[CD.]  O'Malley,  who  was  a  professor  of  the  history  of 


medicine,  a  truly  cultivated  human  being,  a  very  distin- 
guished medical  historian.   O'Malley  was  an  Englishman, 
a  Scotsman,  I  think.   He  had  very  close  connections  with 
the  Wellcome  Medical  History  Institute  and  Library  in  London, 
which  had  been  established  by  Sir  Henry  Wellcome.   One  day 
he  called  me  and  said  that  he  had  learned  that  the  trustees 
of  the  Wellcome  Foundation  had  decided  to  let  go  of  all  the 
art  collections  that  Sir  Henry  Wellcome  had  brought  together 
and  simply  concentrate  on  the  library  of  medical  history 
and  the  museum  of  the  history  of  pharmacy.   Henry  Wellcome 
was  the  founder  of  Burroughs  and  Wellcome,  the  world-wide 
British  pharmaceutical  company. 

If  we  have  a  minute,  I'll  tell  you  an  interesting 
aside.   He  was  a  very  strange  man,  Henry  Wellcome;  I  never 
knew  him,  of  course.   An  interesting  footnote:   Sir  Henry 
Wellcome  was  born  in  Minnesota  of  English  parentage.   And 
as  a  boy,  his  parents  went  back,  and  he  went  back  with  them. 
He  grew  up.  in  London.   He  started  working  in  a  little  apothe- 
cary shop  and  gradually  made  his  own  things  and  built  this 
company.   He  married  a  woman  called  Surrey,  and  this  woman 
divorced  him  to  marry  Somerset  Maugham.   And  she  was  the 
mother  of  the  Maugham  girl  who  sued  her  father,  you  remember, 
a  while  back,  creating  a  great  crisis.   You  remember,  Somerset 
Maugham  married  this  woman,  and  they  lived  together  for  a 
while,  and  then  Somerset  Maugham  decided  to  live  with  his 


male  secretary  for  the  rest  of  his  life  rather  than  with 
his  wife;  and  in  fact,  he  spent  the  rest  of  his  life  trying 
to  autohypnotize  himself  into  believing  that  he  was  never 
married  to  a  woman.   This  is  why  he  denied  the  parentage 
of  this  one  daughter. 

Well,  the  loss  of  his  wife  made  such  a  misogynist 
out  of  Henry  Wellcome  that  he  simply  never  looked  at 
another  woman  again.   He  never  married,  lived  in  a  great 
big  house  in  London,  and  devoted  his  entire  life  to  his 
company  and  collecting.   Now,  he  had  agents  out  all  over 
the  world,  at  the  time  when  Britain  ran  the  world.   And  so 
crates  and  boxes  of  African  art,  Northwest-Coast  Indian 
art,  the  art  of  Melanesia — they  had  great  coconut  plantations 
in  the  Pacific  where  they  got  coconut  oil,  this  sort  of 
thing — he  brought  together  a  fantastic  collection  of  primi- 
tive art.   He  had  also  brought  together  a  great  collection 
of  Egyptology.   He  scoured  the  Middle  East.   A  very  dis- 
tinguished collection.   In  the  meantime,  he  made  a  great 
collection,  a  library  of  medical  history — it's  one  of  the 
finest  in  the  world — and  this  extraordinary  collection  of 
the  history  of  pharmacy. 

The  Wellcome  trustees  thought  they  just  couldn't  keep 
this  all  up,  so  they  concentrated  on  the  medical  history, 
created  an  institute  out  of  it  where  scholars  come  and  do 
medical  history  and  the  history  of  pharmacy  and  so  on.   And 


they  were  going  to  dispose  of  these  collections.   The 
University  of  London  agreed  to  accept  the  Egyptology 
collection  and  built  a  building  for  it.   It's  one  of 
the  finest  small  collections  of  Egyptology,  Egyptian 
art,  to  be  found  anywhere. 

But  what  to  do  with  the  primitive  collection?   The 
British  Museum,  as  you  know,  still  have  in  their  basements, 
these  cavernous  basements,  crates  that  have  the  date  189  5 
on  them  that  have  never  been  opened.   This  is  an  unbelievable 
experience,  to  go  through  the  basements  of  the  British 
Museum.   They  couldn't  take  additional  materials.   Oxford 
and  Cambridge  were  approached,  said  they'd  love  to  have  it 
but  didn't  know  what  they'd  do  with  it.   They  were  very 
diffident.   I  think  they  thought  they'd  get  it  anyway. 

Well,  Donald  O'Malley  was  a  close  friend  of  the  direc- 
tor of  the  Wellcome  Institute.   To  make  a  long  story  short, 
on  my  next  trip  to  London  I  went  and  met  them.   They  got 
very  interested.   Why  California?   Well,  I  said,  "You  know. 
New  York  has  their  Nelson  Rockefeller  materials,  London 
has  the  British  Museum.   Here's  the  western  part  of  a  great 
country  like  the  United  States.   You  do  business  all  through 
the  United  States.   It's  a  logical  home.   We  really  want  it. 
The  others  might  not."   I  thought  we  were  whistling  in  the 
dark,  but  to  my  amazement,  I  got  a  call  from  London  one 
day  saying  the  trustees  had  met  and  voted  to  give  it  to  us. 


I  couldn't  believe  it,  but  I  got  Ralph  Altman  on  the 
plane,  told  him  to  get  over  there.   He  was  absolutely- 
astonished,  because  he,  too,  was  opening  crates  in  ware- 
houses that  had  never  been  opened. 

Well,  one  of  the  exciting  periods  was  that  two-year 
period,  when  month  after  month  I  got  a  call  from  Altman 
saying  the  next  shipment's  arrived.   We'd  go  down  into 
Haines  Hall  and  open  up  the  crates,  and  here  were  these 
fabulous  objects  coming  out.   And  so  overnight,  from  having 
relatively  nothing,  UCLA — and  the  West  Coast,  for  that  matter- 
had  one  of  the  distinguished  collections  of  primitive  art 
anywhere.   And  not  a  year's  passed  since,  that  private 
collectors  haven't  given  additional  materials.   We  expanded 
the  program  to  include  the  folk  arts,  the  ordinary  arts  of 
everyday  people  of  Mexico  and  South  America;  and  the  collec- 
tions are  so  important  now  that  if,  down  the  road,  the 
senate  and  the  faculty  decided  not  to  have  an  interest  in 
this,  they,' d  have  no  alternative.   They've  got  to  go  forward. 
The  critical  mass  is  built. 

One  thing  I  was  unable  to  complete  before  I  left  the 
university  was  to  provide  adequate  housing  for  it,  a  Peabody- 
type  museum  or  a  University  of  Pennsylvania- type  museum. 
But  I  guess  it's  no  secret  that  I'm  personally  working 
on  that  project  now,  and  we  think  we  have  in  sight  an 
angel  or  angels  that,  with  some  cooperation  from  the  regents. 


will  permit  us  to  build  the  kind  of  facility  that  would  have, 
research  space;  office,  teaching,  seminar  space;  and  exhibit 
space,  for  rolling  exhibits  in  this  material.   As  you  know, 
we  have  had  exhibits  on  campus,  bits  and  pieces  of  the  col- 
lection from  time  to  time,  and  will  continue  to,  in  the 
enlarged  new  Fred[erick  S.]  Wight  [Art]  Galleries  that  are 
just  going  to  open  in  January.   In  fact,  they're  going  to  open 
with  an  African  show,  as  you  know,  after  a  Wight  show. 

But  that's,  to  me,  been  a  very  exciting  development. 
I  think  it  hasn't  been  exploited  by  the  university,  not 
yet,  because  I  think  what  you  have  there  in  the  basement 
of  Royce  Hall  and  elsewhere  is  the  cultural  heritage  of 
cultures  which  in  sum  total  make  up  many,  many  millions 
living  in  this  world,  and  whose  descendants  who  live  in 
this  country  have  the  opportunity  to  develop  some  kind  of 
cultural  pride. 

Well,  I  could  go  on,  but  I  think  that  in  my  own  view, 
I  didn't  get  done  in  the  arts  nearly  as  much  as  I  wanted  to. 
I  got  done  a  good  deal,  I  think,  and  even  though  I'm  no 
longer  officially  connected  with  the  university,  I'm  sort 
of  an  unofficial — I  won't  say  adviser — generator  of  extra- 
mural money  to  continue  this  development. 

MINK:   In  the  area  of  the  School  of  Architecture  and  Urban 
Planning,  you  did  have  a  hand  in  that,  I  know,  and  I  thought 
maybe  you  might  like  to  speak  about  that  for  a  minute,  too. 


MURPHY:   During  my  tenure,  we  created  four  new  schools, 
actually;   a  School  of  Dentistry,  a  College  of  Fine  Arts, 
a  School  of  Public  Health — it  was  a  department  when  I  came, 
a  department  of  the  Berkeley  school,  believe  it  or  not, 
another  example  of  that  nonsense  that  we  talked  about 
earlier  (we  created  our  own  School  of  Public  Health,  which 
incidentally  has  developed  great  distinction  around  the 
country ) --and  then  the  College  of  Architecture  and  Urban 
Planning,  I  think  we  called  it.   Well,  this  was  done  on 
the  grounds  that  there  needed  to  be  within  the  system  at 
least  one  more.   There  had  always  been  one  at  Berkeley. 
MINK:   This  was  done  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  USC  has 
always  maintained  a  school? 
MURPHY:   Oh,  it ' s  a  very  fine  school. 

MINK:   But  it  was  felt  that  there  was  sufficient  need? 
MURPHY:   Yes,  sir.   Sufficient  need,  and  that  we  had  on 
campus,  in  a  variety  of  other  departments,  resources  that 
could  be  highly  supportive  of  this  new  college.   But  here 
we  had  one  hell  of  a  time,  again,  with  this  professional 
versus  the  fellow  that  does  iambic  pentameter.   And  we 
really  maybe  had  more  problems  here  than  we  almost  had  any 
other  place,  because  we  were  not  creating,  as  I  had  to  over 
and  over  again  explain  to  the  senate  and  budget  committees, 
a  department  of  the  history  of  architecture.   We  needed  prac- 
ticing architects,  fellows  who  knew  how  to  teach  other  people 


to  build  and  design  a  building  that  wouldn't  fall  down. 
I  got  George  Dudley,  who  was  a  very  capable  guy,  from 
Rensselaer  Polytechnic  [Institute].   George  came  out, 
and  really,  in  the  two  or  three  years  that  he  had  in  trying 
to  recruit  and  get  people  through  the  budget  committee  and 
this  sort  of  thing,  it  finally  just  took  the  heart  out  of 

MINK:   It's  really  what  turned  him  off  and  made  him  leave, 
I  think. 

MURPHY:   No  question  about  it.   It  just  cut  his  heart  out. 
He  said,  "My  God,  how  can  you  build  this  kind  of  thing?" 
And  he'd  get  angry,  and  I  think  justifiably  so.   "Why  has 
some  professor  of  English  literature  got  the  authority  to 
tell  me  as  a  member  of  the  budget  committee  that  he  doesn't 
think  this  fellow  is  a  good  architect?   What  does  he  know 
about  it?"   But  anyway,  George  made  progress,  and  George  did 
creative,  broad  design,  including  a  very  important  commit- 
ment to  urban  development,  urban  planning. 

MINK:  That  was  the  real  difference  in  our  school  vis-a-vis 
Berkeley  and  USC,  that  we  were  going  to  add  this  other  ele- 

MURPHY:   That  is  correct.   It's  important  because  this  is 
an  element  that  everybody  was  increasingly  interested  in. 
MINK:   Los  Angeles  was  a  fine  laboratory  for  this. 
MURPHY:   A  great  laboratory.   And  parenthetically,  that 


was  one  of  the  reasons  we  were  able  to  attract  some  people, 
in  spite  of  the  budget  committee  nonsense  in  this  regard. 
Well,  he  left,  and  I  think  we  were  very  fortunate  in  getting 
his  successor.   George  had  really  sort  of  broken  the  ice. 
By  the  time  George  left,  we'd  pounded  the  budget  committee 
often  enough;  and  I'd  gotten  more  authority,  as  I  explained 
earlier,  back  from  Berkeley  to  make  some  final  decisions 
down  here  overruling  people  without  worrying  about  them. 
So  that  by  the  time  the  new  man  came,  we  were  able  to  move 
on  appointments  with  a  good  deal  more  vigor  and  also  make 
arrangements  for  part-time  practice,  which  the  purists.... 
You  know,  I'll  never  forget  when  some  fellow  from  one  of 
the  humanities  said  to  me,  "Well,  why  do  you  say  that  an 
architect  can  practice  outside  and  earn  money  as  well  as 
teach?   Why  not  me?"   I  said,  "Did  I  ever  tell  you  that  you 
couldn't  write  a  book  that  somebody  would  want  to  buy? 
If  you're  up  to  writing  a  book  on  your  own  time,  in  addition 
to  your  teaching — I  don't  care  what  it  is,  a  Mickey  Spillane 
novel  or  whatever — I  never  told  you  you  couldn't  go  to  a 
publisher  and  get  it  published  and  keep  the  money." 


TAPE  NUMBER:   V,  Side  2 
DECEMBER  6,  1973 

MURPHY:   There's  this  kind  of  an  element  in  this  whole 
thing.   There's  sort  of  a  jealousy  between  the  purists 
and  the  professional  schools  and  the  like.   In  any  event, 
I  think  that  school  is  on  its  way. 
MINK:   I  think  so. 

MURPHY:   But  boy,  bringing  a  professional  school  to  birth 
is  especially  hard  in  the  University  of  California.   Harvard 
never  had  this  problem.   Harvard  doesn't  have  a  budget 
committee  system,  where  the  liberal  arts  people  decide 
what  the  Harvard  Business  School  is  going  to  do  or  the 
Harvard  Law  School  is  going  to  do.   This  university  system 
was  in  the  grip  of  the  liberal  arts  faculty — like  this, 
[gestures]   Bob  Sproul  gave  it  to  them.   It  was  the  deal 
when  he  became  president.   And  that's  why  the  professional 
schools  in  the  California  system  have  really  lagged  behind 
their  counterparts  in  the  East.   There's  been  a  medical 
school  in  San  Francisco  for  a  long  time  as  part  of  the 
University  of  California,  never  a  distinguished  school 
as  compared  to  Harvard,  [Johns]  Hopkins,  etc.,  etc.   Boalt 
Hall  really  never  achieved  the  distinction,  until  more 
recently,  that  Yale  and  Harvard  and  Columbia  or  Chicago 
have.   Engineering  schools — my  God!  no  comparison  in  terms 


of  MIT,  and  Cornell,  Caltech  and  so  on.   The  business 
school,  same  situation:   the  Harvard  Business  School, 
Columbia  Business  School,  the  Chicago  School  of  Business. 
And  it  was  this  grip  that  the  liberal  arts  faculty  had, 
with  the  full  support  of  Sproul  and  Kerr,  on  the  life  of 
the  university  that  did  it.   And  it  was  only  broken  when 
the  regents  themselves,  at  the  behest  of  some  of  us,  simply 
explained  to  the  then  president  that  they  wanted  this 
stopped.   I'm  told  by  Chuck  that  although  there  are  prob- 
lems in  this  regard,  they're  infinitely  less  than  they 
were  ten  years  ago. 

DECEMBER  26,  19  73 

MINK:   I  was  wondering  if  you  would  discuss,  just  for  a 
while  this  afternoon,  your  involvement  with  the  library. 
Now,  just  at  the  time  that  you  came,  we  got  a  new  university 
librarian.  Bob  Vosper.   I  wonder  if  you  could  more  or  less 
relate  how  this  happened  that  you  and  he  came  together. 
MURPHY:   Well,  I  guess  it's  fairly  well  understood  that 
I've  always  been  interested  in  libraries  wherever  I've  been. 
I  guess  that's  because  I  grew  up  with  a  bibliophilic  father. 
I  became  a  sort  of  a  book  collector  at  a  very  early  age 
myself.   But  over  and  beyond  just  the  love  of  books  and 
book  collecting  and  this  kind  of  thing,  I've  always  felt 


that  in  a  very  real  way  the  quality  of  the  library  is  a 
measure  of  the  quality,  the  intellectual  quality,  of  the 
institution.   Curious  scholars  need  books,  especially  in 
the  humanities  and  the  social  sciences,  and  if  the  books 
are  unavailable,  you  don't  get  the  scholars.   It's  a  kind 
of  a  deep  interrelationship. 

So  when  I  went  to  the  University  of  Kansas  as  chan- 
cellor, I  found  a  library  situation  that  was  most  unsatis- 
factory.  There  was  a  very  old,  tired  chap  who'd  been 
director  of  libraries  for  thirty  years.   He  was  unfortunately 
one  of  those  librarians  who  dislike  books.   They  represented 
a  chore  or  a  problem.   He  retired,  happily,  was  scheduled 
for  retirement  within  a  year  or  two  after  I  came,  and  I 
put  together  a  committee  to  seek  out  his  successor.   The 
chairman  of  that  committee  was  the  head  of  the  English 
department,  Jim  Wortham.   Jim  had  been  at  UCLA  in  the 
English  department,  and  he  remembered  Bob  Vosper  as  an 
energetic,  delightful  human  being,  very  knowledgeable 
about  libraries  and  with  a  real  love  of  books.   So  in  the 
end,  the  committee  came  up  with  Vesper's  name,  and  then  I 
had  the  problem  of  convincing  Bob  to  leave  UCLA,  leave 
Larry  Powell,  leave  a  very  happy  environment,  to  come  to 
Kansas  in  a  rather  austere  environment  and  with  a  very  bad 
library  situation.   But  I  think  the  charm  of  the  Lawrence 
campus  plus  my  sense  of  commitment  convinced  Bob  that  this 


was  an  opportunity  for  him  to  go  on  his  own.   So  then 
began  this  relationship  which  continued  over  many  years. 

We  had  a  very  exciting  time  at  Kansas.   I  found  the 
money,  both  public  and  private,  and  Bob  managed  to  build 
a  really  extraordinary,  active  and  gifted  staff,  many  of 
whom  have  gone  on  to  the  senior  positions  since;  and  we  had 
enormous  fun  in  getting  real  vitality  back  into  the  library 

I  might  add  that  one  of  my  gambits  in  attempting  to 
convince  Bob  to  come  to  Lawrence  from  UCLA  in  the  beginning 
was,  of  course,  my  comment  that  Lawrence  was  a  beautiful 
little  hill  town  in  eastern  Kansas  with  pure  air  and 
none  of  the  smog  and  none  of  the  tension  and  excitement. 
And  now  I  leave  Lawrence  to  go  to  Los  Angeles.   And  inci- 
dentally, the  year  I  left.  Bob  was  on  sabbatical  in  Italy. 
I  remember  the  painful — because  we  had  developed  not  just 
a  professional  but  a  very  personal  relationship--problem 
I  had  of  writing  him  and  telling  him  that  I  was  leaving. 

When  I  got  to  Los  Angeles — I  had  known  Larry  Powell, 
and  of  course  I  consider  Larry  one  of  the  really  gifted 
men  in  the  whole  history  of  library  science  in  this  country- 
I  discovered  that  Larry  was  near  retirement;  at  least,  he 
wanted  to  get  out  of  managing  the  library  to  become  dean  of 
a  new  school  of  library  science.   That  was  about  it.   He 
really  wasn't  retiring  from  the  university.   So  within  a 


year  or  two,  I  had  the  problem  of  replacing  Larry.   And 
needless  to  say,  I  really  wanted  to  get  Bob.   I  finally 
sort  of  had  to  clear  it  with  ray  successor  at  Kansas.   I 
think  he  was  not  surprised  when  I  called  him  and  told  him 
that  I  wanted  Bob,  because  he  knew  how  close  Bob  and  I  were. 
Then  I  dealt  with  Bob,  really,  by  mail.   I  didn't  have  to 
have  him  come  to  UCLA;  he  knew  it  very  well.   And  to  make 
a  long  story  short,  it  was  like  Bob  coming  back  home,  but 
as  boss  this  time. 

And  here  again,  we  made  a  commitment — several  commit- 
ments.  I  go  back  to  the  old  Berkeley  problem.   Berkeley 
had  repeatedly  had  the  advantage  over  UCLA  in  library  money. 
Furthermore,  all  of  the  exchange  material  that  the  University 
Press  got  for  their  journals  that  they  published  all  auto- 
matically went  into  the  Berkeley  library.   This  was  a  hidden 
subsidy  to  Berkeley. 

So  my  first  job  was  to  get  Bob.   That  was  fairly  easy. 
My  second  job  was  to  get  the  money  to  build  the  new  research 
library,  the  first  unit.   This  was  a  little  more  difficult. 
But  we  got  it  pushed  up  on  the  agenda.   I  remember  we  had 
great  difficulties  with  the  Berkeley  people,  though;  they 
wanted  a  smaller  building  than  Larry  and  I  knew  we  had  to 
have.   We  finally  had  to  get  the  ex-librarian  at  Harvard 
out  here  as  a  consultant  to  convince  the  people  in  Berkeley 
that  what  we  had  talked  about  was  reasonable.   The  money 


for  this  was  acquired;  we,  happily,  were  able  to  hire 
Quincy  Jones  to  do  the  building;  and  I  think  that  research 
library  is  one  of  the  most  attractive  buildings  on  the  whole 
campus.   Quincy  did  a  superb  job.   The  third  problem  was 
much  the  more  difficult,  and  that  was  the  effort  to  get 
parity  with  Berkeley.   And  here,  again,  we  had  to  almost — 
not  almost,  we  had  to  go  the  regents  route  again. 
MINK:   You  actually  had  to  go  to  the  regents? 
MURPHY:   Privately.   As  I  said  in  one  of  these  earlier 
tapes,  I'm,  in  retrospect,  never  happy  about  the  fact  that 
I  had  to  go  out  of  channels  so  often.   I  never  wanted  to. 
But  this  Berkeley  favoritism  was  so  rampant  that  channels 
wouldn't  work  on  anything. 

MINK:   I ' d  be  curious  to  know,  which  regents  were  most 
responsive  to  library  needs? 

MURPHY:   Well,  again,  regents  such  as  Ed  Carter,  Ed  Pauley, 
John  Canaday,  Bill  Forbes,  Dorothy  Chandler — all  of  them. 
They  understood  this  instinctively.   They're  all  bright 
and  intelligent  people.   But  always  there  was  this  element 
when  I  had  to  go  to  the  regents,  whether  it  was  on  dormitory 
or  housing  or  union  building  or  whatever,  to  get  parity 
with  Berkeley.   Always  there  was  this  element  of  the  unfair- 
ness of  not  having  parity  on  any  issue. 

Well,  we  finally  got  an  agreement  out  of  the  statewide 
administration,  as  a  result  of  regents  pressure.   So  we 


were  on  our  way.   And  I  think  it's  fair  to  say  in  retro- 
spect that  those  nine  years  that  Bob  and  I  had  together — 
again,  my  getting  the  money  and  the  resources  and  Bob 
building  the  staff  and  developing  this  very  sophisticated 
acquisitions  program — were  really  very  satisfying  years 
for  me  and  for  Bob,  and  I  think  they  were  sort  of  golden 
years  for  the  UCLA  library.   I  think  the  UCLA  library  is 
now  one  of  the  better  university  libraries  in  the  country. 
It  should  be.   It's  a  resource  for  Southern  California  as 
well  as  for  the  university. 

I  understand  my  successor,  Chancellor  Young,  however, 
has  to  continue  to  scrutinize  the  situation  on  this  parity 
business.   It  tends  to  slip  from  time  to  time.   But  my  con- 
viction is  that  as  long  as  the  statewide  administration 
sits  in  Berkeley,  California,  UCLA  is  always  going  to  have 
to  be  looking  over  the  shoulder.   It's  a  bad  situation. 
And  parenthetically,  I  should  say  that  I,  for  years,  have 
taken  a  position,  and  communicated  to  the  regents,  that  the 
healthiest  thing  they  could  do  is  to  move  the  statewide 
administration  out  of  Berkeley.   Until  they  do  that,  there 
will  always  be  this  problem. 

MINK:   That's  what  Jerry  Byrne  recommended  in  his  report. 
MURPHY:   Of  course,  he  did.   And  any  logical  person  looking 
at  it  objectively  knows  that's  what  should  be  done. 
MINK:   Tell  me,  in  this  matter  of  parity,  did  this  come  in 


what  I  recall  was  a  period  of  the  enjoying  of  large  lump 
sums  of  regents'  opportunity  money,  chancellors'  contingency 
money.   I  think  that  decade  when  you  were  chancellor  probably 
brought  that  bulk  money  in  greater  amounts  to  the  library 
than  ever  before.   I  wondered  if  this  was  the  way  in  which 
the  parity  was  balanced  off. 

MURPHY:   Well,  this  was  a  curious  thing.   You  put  your 
finger  on  what  continues,  I  think,  to  be  a  small  but  nagging 
problem  for  Chancellor  Young.   There  was  a  basic  reluctance 
on  the  part  of  the  statewide  administration  to  get  the  annual 
operating  funds  on  a  parity. 
MINK:   That's  what  I  was  wondering,  yes. 
MURPHY:   So  what  they  did  was  to  go  to  the  regents  and 
say,  "Okay,  we  can't  cut  Berkeley  back  to  equalize  it,  so 
you've  got  to  give  us  your  funds."   These  could  not  be 
regarded  as  continuing  funds.   They  were  continuing,  in 
that  it  happened  every  year  for  a  number  of  those  years. 
But  they  provided  a  spurt,  if  you  will,  to  get  the  collec- 
tions closer  to  parity.   And  I  don't  know  the  details,  it's 
been  five  years,  but  I  always  said  that  until  the  annual 
state  appropriated  budgets  for  books  were  equalized,  you 
could  never  say  there  was  parity.   What  that  situation  is 
now,  I  don't  know.   I  must  say  that  I  think,  however,  in 
terms  of  private  funds  and  use  of  campus  funds  that  we  had 
control  over,  we  finally  got  control  over,  like  the  Connell 


money. .. •   I  think  I  mentioned  earlier  that  when  I  came, 

that  Connell  money,  although  it  was  given  to  UCLA,  was 

controlled  by  Berkeley.   One  of  the  first  things  we  did 

was  to  tear  that  away.   It  wasn't  a  lot  of  money--!  think 

about  a  couple  hundred  thousand  a  year--but  that  was  a 

crucial  couple  of  hundred  thousand  a  year.   However,  I 

don't  know,  you  know,  how  you  could  ever  measure  perfect 

parity.   But  I  must  say,  I  think  we're  much  closer  to  it 

than  we  used  to  be. 

MINK:   I  think  we  certainly  are. 

MURPHY:   And  I  think  the  library  has  shown  it  in  terms  of 

the  growth  of  its  collections,  the  quality  of  the  collections, 

the  depth  of  the  collections. 

MINK:   Was  it  ever  your  intention  that,  if  at  all  possible, 

the  University  Research  Library  should  have  been  built  in 

one  single. . . ? 

MURPHY:   I  fought  to  have  it  built....   Well,  let  me  go 

back  a  little  bit.   When  we  proved  that  we  needed  this 

additional  library  structure,  I  had  hoped  we  could  build 

it  in  two  pieces,  two  bites.   The  Berkeley  crowd  started 

on  a  four-bite  basis.   And  the  way  it  really  wound  up  is 

that  it's  a  three-bite  basis. 

MINK:   The  unfortunate  thing — just  in  commenting — is  that 

it's  made  it  so  much  more  expensive  to  build. 

MURPHY:   Precisely.   This  was  our  point,  that  you  can  do 


it  much  more  cheaply.   But,  again,  those  are  battles 
that  are  better  forgotten.   At  least  we've  got  a  rather 
distinguished  building  there,  and  it's  only  got  one  more 
piece  to  go. 

MINK:   Turning  now  to  the  student  unrest,  the  whole  matter 
of  the  fruition  of  student  unrest,  if  you  want  to  put  it 
that  way.   The  real  battle,  demonstrations  didn't  occur 
until  after  you'd  left,  but  did  you  begin  to  detect  this 
during  your  administration? 

MURPHY:   Oh,  yes.   We  had  some  problems  during  my  time, 
because  of  course  the  [Mario]  Savio,  the  Free  Speech 
Movement,  so-called,  had  started  at  Berkeley.   There 'd 
been  a  lot  of  trouble  up  there,  and  troubles  had  started 
on  the  Stanford  campus  and  around  the  country.   So  we  had 
some  real  problems  when  I  was  here.   We  had  the  SDS  group 
trying  to  block  up  the  Placement  Center.   We  had  the  Dow 
Chemical  Company  difficulties,  broken  windows,  and  we  had  to 
use  the  campus  police  several  times.   I  had  the  big  sit-in 
in  the  Administration  Building  where  we  did  bring  police 
on  campus.   We  asked  them  not  to  do  anything,  and  the 
youngsters  did  leave  the  building.   You  will  recall  that 
we  had  some  sort  of  mass  meetings,  and  people  demanded 
to  see  me;  and  for  a  period  of  time,  I'd  go  to  the  union 
building  once  a  week  and  sit  down  with  a  group  of  militant 
students  and  let  them  tell  me  how  bad  society  was  and  the 


university  was  and  I  was.   So  we  had  that  kind  of  diffi- 

Also,  we  began  to  have  the  militancy  of  the  Chicano 
students  and  the  black  students,  because  there  was  a  lot 
of  militancy  going  on  at  that  time.   There  was  the  anti- 
Vietnam  [War]  militancy.   There  was  the  Free  Speech  mili- 
tancy:  we  ought  to  be  able  to  do  what  we  want  when  we 
want.   Then  the  blacks  were  coming  on  strong,  and  they  had 
their  special  kind  of  militancy — black  studies,  rights  for 
the  blacks.   And  the  Chicanes  came  along.   I  had  that  epi- 
sode when  one  of  the  fraternities  that  traditionally  had 
a  party  put  up  signs  in  the  front  of  their  building.   And 
the  Chicano  students  felt  that  these  signs  were  very  demean- 
ing to  the  Mexican  tradition,  and  they  threatened  to  break 
down,  burn  down  the  fraternity,  bring  the  university  to  a 
screaming  halt — things  like  that. 

But  you  may  recall  that  we  took  a  pretty  strong  posi- 
tion, and  it  was  based  on  a  three-point  sort  of  platform. 
The  platform  said:   One,  that  we  believed  in  the  freedom 
of  expression  without  fear  of  retribution;  we  could  protect 
that.   Two,  that  we  would  protect  the  right  of  privacy. 
Just  because  one  man  has  the  right  to  speak  is  not  the 
guarantee  that  he  has  a  captive  audience.   Another  man  must 
have  the  right  not  to  want  to  listen  and  not  to  have  to 
listen.   That's  why  we  had  this  time,  place,  and  manner 


set  of  rules.   And  then,  thirdly,  we  said  that  nobody-- 
and  that  meant  nobody--had  the  right  to  interfere  with  the 
normal  conduct  of  the  business  of  the  university.   We  had 
a  number  of  disciplinary  hearings;  we  had  some  suspension 
of  students;  we  had — fortunately,  as  I  think  it's  the  case-- 
to  bring  the  police  on  campus  only  once  and  that  was  the 
sit-in  in  the  Administration  Building. 

MINK:   Was  that  the  campus  police?   That  wasn't  the  LT^D? 
MURPHY:   No,  I  had  the  LAPD  in.   And  we  put  them  in  the 
basement,  and  the  students  were  sitting  in  on  the  third 
floor.   And  we  told  them  that  unless  they  got  out  by  five- 
thirty,  they  would  be  interfering  with  the  normal  conduct 
of  the  business  of  the  university.   The  key  to  it,  in  ray 
view,  was  that  they  knew  the  LAPD  was  in  the  basement. 
And  by  five-thirty,  they  had  gotten  out;  so  the  police 
filed  out  and  we  had  no  further  difficulty. 

But  I  will  admit  that  the  combination  of  the  struggle 
to  get  parity  across  the  board  with  the  Berkeley  campus, 
the  pressures  that  normally  bear  on  a  person  who's  chancellor 
or  president  of  a  university  having  done  this  for  twenty 
years,  I  would  say  then  that  the  extra  effort,  which  involved 
literally  hours  of  talking  with  and  listening  to  these  instant 
wisdom- type — the  student  arrogants,  I  guess  you'd  call  them — 
undoubtedly  played  a  role  in  my  finally  deciding  that  I 
wasn't  young  enough.   You  needed  a  younger  man  to  take  this 


kind  of  pressure.   And  I'd  been  doing  it  for  some  twenty- 
odd  years. 

MINK:   You  know,  it  was  originally  planned,  as  I  understood 
it,  when  home  economics  was  moved  out,  that  the  School  of 
Public  Health  would  have  its  new  building. 
MURPHY:   Right. 

MINK:   That  was  to  be  part  of  the  humanities  complex,  and 
in  fact  it  was  even  named  after  Lily  Bess  Campbell. 
MURPHY:   That's  right. 

MINK:   But  then,  was  this  one  way  in  which  you  were  able, 
by  giving  into  the  blacks  and  the  Chicanes  and  the  Indians, 
to  provide  a  center  or  place  for  them  on  campus? 
MURPHY:   That  was  done  after  I  left. 
MINK:   Was  that  done  after  you  left? 

MURPHY:   Absolutely.   I  had,  and  I  still  have,  very  grave 
questions  as  to  these  black  studies  programs,  Indian  study 
programs,  Chicano  studies  programs.   I  think  they're  devoid 
of  much  intellectual  content.   I  think  it  was  psychotherapy 
rather  than  intellectual  activity.   But  I'm  not  going  to 
second-guess  anybody,  because  maybe  some  psychotherapy  was 
needed  to  quiet  people  down.   I  think  it's  a  miscarriage  of 
space  and  everything  else,  on  a  campus  that's  very  short  on 
space,  to  provide  a  sort  of  social  meeting  room  for  these 
people.   I  must  say,  I'm  glad  to  see  that  the  more  intelli- 
gent and  thoughtful  blacks  around  the  country  are  now  admitting 


that  these  black  studies  programs  were  really  nothing 

much  more  than  buying  some  time  and  interest.   The  history 

of  the  black  in  this  country  and  the  history  of  the  Chicano 

in  this  country  ought  to  be  an  integral  part  of  history. 

And  any  department  of  history  with  integrity  will  put  it 

in.   And  they'd  even  have  a  separate  course.   But  to  create 

these  so-called  centers  is,  I  think,  really  quite  absurd. 

MINK:   So  if  you  had  been  there,  you  would  have  vetoed  this. 

MURPHY:   Well,  let's  put  it  this  way:   Who  knows?   You  know, 

Monday-morning  quarterbacking  is  easy.   If  I'd  been  there 

and  I'd  felt  that  the  situation  called  for  some  kind  of 

psychotherapy,  I  think  I  would  have  involved  myself  in  it. 

I  just  don't  know  because  I  wasn't  there  then.   I  was  not 

there  during  the  Angela  Davis  difficulty.   That  happened, 

I  think,  a  year  or  two  after  I'd  left.   But  I  am  rather 

pleased,  looking  back — even  though  it  was  totally  exhausting — 

that  we  did  engage  in  conversations  in  different  quarters 

of  the  campus  and  with  the  faculty  and  with  militant  students 

to  the  extent  that  we  prevented  any  fire. 

MINK:   In  this,  you  took  a  leaf  from  the  Berkeley  situation. 

MURPHY:   They  communicated  by  memo. 

MINK:   Or  refused  to  communicate. 

MURPHY:   Yes,  or  refused  to  communicate.   And  then,  of  course, 

I  think  anybody  deserves  the  dignity  of  a  response,  even  to 

a  demand.   Now  we  turned  down  many  of  these  so-called  demands. 


They  were  impossible.   But  at  the  same  time,  they  had  a 

MINK:   Were  you  ever  asked  by  the  Berkeley  people  how  you 
managed  to  keep  the  lid  on? 

MURPHY:   Yes.   Very  often.   And  all  I  could  say  was  what 
we  were  doing.   In  all  fairness  to  Berkeley,  I  think  Stanford 
is,  perhaps,  a  better  example.   But  maybe  that's  not  true, 
either.   As  you  know,  everybody  thinks  of  Berkeley,  but  I 
think  probably  as  many  or  more  acts  of  vandalism  and  real 
violence  occurred  on  the  Stanford  campus  as  occurred  at 
Berkeley.   But  in  all  fairness  to  both  of  those  places, 
much  of  that  difficulty  was  as  a  result  of  nonstudents, 
hangers-on  around  the  campus  or  mixed-up  high-school  students 
who  wanted  some  kind  of  excitement.   One  of  the  big  problems 
from  the  very  beginning  at  Berkeley  has  been  the  horrible 
state  of  the  society  around  the  campus.   We  never  had  that 
at  UCLA,  and  to  that  extent  we  had  a  great  advantage.   I 
always  said  it  wasn't  quite  fair  to  compare  the  two  situations. 
I  can't  take  credit  for  the  environs  of  the  UCLA  campus. 
MINK:   One  of  the  points  that  was  often  made  about  you  per- 
sonally in  relation  to  the  students  was  that  you  didn't  like 
to  address  a  lot  of  them  as  a  group,  that  you  would  lose 
your  temper,  so  you  would  send  Chuck  instead. 
MURPHY:   Well,  toward  the  end  that  happened,  yes.   This  is 
when  I  began  to  sense  that  I  wasn't  very  good  for  this  kind 


of  thing.   I  remember  one  time,  the  thing  that  really, 
I  think,  made  me  seriously  consider  whether  I  wasn't 
really  getting  a  little  fatigued  was  this  Chicano  thing, 
where  these  arrogant  kids--I  agreed  to  meet  with  them. 
I  agreed  to  meet  with  ten  of  them,  and  thirty  of  them 
crowded  into  this  room.   All  their  own  scholarships, 
money  that  I'd  personally  gone  out  to  get  from  government 
and  other  agencies,  being  given  a  first-rate  education — 
snarling,  spitting,  making  demands;  and  I  did  lose  my 
temper.   And  I  finally  got  up  and  stomped  out.   I  said, 
you  know,  "Vice-Chancellor  Young  will  deal  with  this  matter 
from  this  point  on." 

And  I  went  back  to  my  office  and  I  said,  "Look,  you're 
obviously  losing  your  patience;  you're  obviously  fatigued." 
You  know,  it  was  battle  fatigue.  That  was  before,  of  course 
I'd  been  offered  the  Times-Mirror  job.  But  it  began  making 
me  think  that  after  twenty  years  maybe  I  ought  to  try  some- 
thing else. 

MINK:   Let's  take  up  the  matter  of  athletics  during  your 
administration.   What  did  you  think  of  the  athletic  setup 
as  you  saw  it  when  you  came? 

MURPHY:   Well,  I  frankly  was  a  little  disappointed,  for  a 
number  of  reasons.   Number  one,  there  was  a  kind  of,  to 
me,  depressing  attitude  surrounding  athletics.   Wilbur 
Johns  was  the  athletic  director,  a  very  nice  and  loyal 


man,  but  Wilbur  had  been  there  too  long.   And  he  was 
the  product  of  those  older  days  when  there  was  a  lot  of 
chicanery  and  a  lot  of  nonsense  going  on.   Secondly,  the 
department  itself  was  very  inefficient  from  the  business- 
management  side.   It  also  seemed  to  me  that  alumni  groups 
were  running  Wilbur  rather  than  vice  versa.   Thirdly,  I 
was  very  depressed  about  the  fact  that  the  athletic  facil- 
ities on  campus  were  relatively  nonexistent:   no  football, 
no  basketball  arena,  no  track  of  consequence,  no  baseball 
field.   In  short,  everything  had  to  be  done  off  campus.   And 
yet  this  was  a  university  activity.   This  was  disappointing. 
And  finally,  I  was  very  disappointed  at  the  lack  of  support 
by  the  athletic  department  and  interest  in  the  so-called 
minor  sports:   the  swimming,  crew,  tennis,  golf — you  know, 
this  sort  of  thing.   And  my  theory,  ever  since  I'd  been  in 
higher  education,  was  that  you  shouldn't  demean  the  athletic 
program;  you  should  broaden  it  to  get  more  and  more  young- 
sters involved  in  it. 

Well,  it  was  clear  to  me  that  a  lot  of  things  had  to 
be  done,  and  a  whole  basic  change  in  attitude  had  to  occur 
toward  athletics  at  UCLA.   And  the  more  I  thought  about  it, 
the  more  I  realized  that  everything  really  was  related  to 
finding  a  new  athletic  director,  the  right  fellow.   I  talked 
to  a  lot  of  people.   I  personally  felt  that  Wilbur  had  out- 
lived his  time,  that  we  had  to  have  new,  fresh  blood.   Not 


that  he  hadn't  done  well,  but  there  had  to  be  a  new  epoch. 

I  talked  to  many,  many  people,  and  Bill  Ackerman  was 
the  one  who  put  me  on  to  J.D.  Morgan.   The  more  I  thought 
about  J.D.  and  I  got  to  know  him....   Here  was  a  man  who 
was  deeply  interested  in  athletics--he  was  the  tennis 
coach — but  he  was  in  the  business  side  of  the  university 
and  a  good,  tough,  hard  business  mind.   And  the  more  we 
talked,  the  more  I  realized  that  he  had  the  interests  I 
had:   broadening  the  base  of  athletics,  building  some 
facilities  on  campus,  getting  the  control  of  the  program 
back  into  the  university  rather  than  out  on  the  alumni  and 
this  fiction  of  the  students  running  the  program.   About 
that  time  also,  the  regents,  you  may  recall,  transferred 
the  management  of  athletics  to  the  chancellor,  where  it 
had  been  in  the  Associated  Students — this  curious  fiction. 
So  all  these  things  came  together.   I  was  given  the  respon- 
sibility— rather  than  the  ASUCLA — of  the  program. 
MINK:   Were  you  in  any  way  responsible  for  this  action  of 
the  regents?   Were  you  lobbying  for  it? 
MURPHY:   Yes,  sir,  I  demanded  it.   I  said,  "This  is  a 
nonsense."   Incidentally,  again  I  had  problems  with  the 
Berkeley  campus  on  this.   They  said,  "Oh,  we're  doing 
beautifully,"  you  know,  and,  "This  ought  to  be  with  the 
students.   The  students  are  running  the  program."   And  I 
said,  "That's  the  damnedest  fiction  I  ever  heard.   Students 


aren't  running  the  program.   Professional  managers  are 
running  it.   If  things  go  wrong,  the  chancellor  gets  the 
blame;  but  he  has  no  responsibility."   And  I  must  say  that 
Kerr  was  very  supportive  on  this,  right  from  the  beginning. 
And  the  regents  got  this  done  with  a  minimum  of  difficulty, 
with  only  the  Berkeley  campus,  not  the  statewide  adminis- 
tration, raising  objections. 

But  as  I  say,  all  of  these  things  came  together.   Then 
we  got  the  Memorial  Activities  Center  program  campaign  going. 
Tom  and  Phil  Davis  were  central  to  that.   And  of  course  Ed 
Pauley's  gift,  which  John  Canaday  and  Ed  Carter  and  I  got 
Ed  to  commit  to  one  night  up  at  the  old  Claremont  Hotel 
in  Berkeley.   Since  then,  I  think  that  the  program  has  become 
one  of  the  most  successful  in  the  United  States.   It's  a  pro- 
gram that  is  defensible;  it's  not  done  violence  to  the  aca- 
demic quality  of  the  institution.   And  really,  to  summarize 
it,  if  I'm  to  get  any  credit  at  all,  it's  my  decision  to 
appoint  J.D.  Morgan,  because  J.D.  is  the  one  that's  really 
built  the  program.   I  think  he's  the  best  athletic  director 
in  America. 

MINK:   Actually,  did  you  really  have  quite  a  lot  to  do  with 
getting  this  before  the  regents? 

MURPHY:   You  mean  to  get  the  control  of  athletics  back  in 
to  the  chancellor? 
MINK:   Yes. 


MURPHY:   Yes,  sir,  I  did.   I  did  a  lot  of  lobbying. 
MINK:   How  did  you  do  that,  just  by  lobbying  with  regents? 
MURPHY:   Absolutely.   Well,  I  mean,  these  are  businessmen, 
these  regents.   This  thing  is  a  tradition  going  back  to  a 
lot  of  Sproul  nonsense  years  before,  even  [W.W. ]  Campbell 
nonsense.   But  when  I  could  go  to  a  Carter  or  a  Pauley  or 
anybody  else  and  say,  "Look,  how  can  you  possibly  manage 
something,  bear  the  responsibility,  if  you  don't  have  the 
authority?"   They  understood  that  quickly.   As  a  matter  of 
fact,  a  lot  of  the  regents  didn't  understand  that.   They 
didn't  know  that  the  chancellor  wasn't  running  the  athletic 
program.   But  I  want  to  repeat,  Clark  Kerr  was  very  supportive 
right  from  the  beginning.   I  had  no  problem  with  him  at  all, 
nor  he  with  me. 

MINK:   Turning  from  athletics,  unless  you  have  some  further 
comment  to  make  about  it. . . 
MURPHY :   No ,  no . 

MINK:  the  whole  matter  of  public  information,  public 
affairs.   As  I  remember,  before  your  administration,  the 
office  was  called  the  Office  of  Public  Information.   And 
soon  after  that,  there  was  a  reorganization  in  this  area, 
reorganization  not  only  in  Public  Affairs,  but  bringing  into 
that  office  the  Office  of  Publications  and  all  of  this. 
MURPHY:   Well,  the  story  there  is,  I  think,  a  fairly  simple 
one.   First  of  all,  you  know,  a  lot  of  these  things  that 


I  found  when  I  came  were,  I  think,  not  the  fault  of  any 
of  my  predecessors,  but  the  fact  that  they  had  no  authority 
to  do  anything  about  their  problems.   Everything  had  to  be 
cleared  with  Berkeley.   And  the  Berkeley  people,  the  state- 
wide people,  would  always  say,  "Well,  if  it's  good  enough 
for  the  Berkeley  campus,  then  it  ought  to  be  okay  for  UCLA." 
So  the  first  and  most  important  thing  in  the  resolution  of 
a  lot  of  things--athletics;  the  thing  that  we're  talking 
about  now,  public  information;  and  many  other  things--the 
first  and  most  important  thing  was  to  get  the  authority  to 
do  what  you  had  to  do  at  the  campus  level.   Now,  having 
gotten  that  authority,  or  increasing  amounts  of  it  year  by 
year,  one  of  the  things  that  was  very  clear  to  me  was  that 
this  big,  sprawling  campus,  with  different  departments  and 
schools  wanting  to  get  out  newsletters  and  this  and  that 
and  the  other  thing,  that  this  thing  had  to  be  coordinated, 
had  to  be  pulled  together.   Furthermore,  as  you  know,  one 
of  my  major  commitments  was  to  bring  the  university  to  the 
Los  Angeles  community.   This  is  their  public  university. 
MINK:   And  publicity,  of  course,  is  an  important  factor. 
MURPHY:   Very  important.   And  it  had  to  be  sophisticated. 
It  was  not  just  grinding  out  press  releases,  but  it  was 
a  plan  of  telling  the  story  of  the  university.   Beyond  that, 
the  statewide  people  were  now  into  this  bond  issue  thing, 
and  they  depended  heavily  upon  us,  because  if  the  bond 


issue  didn't  carry  in  Southern  California,  that  was  the 
end  of  it. 

So  all  of  these  factors  led  to  my  pulling  things  out 
of  the  various  schools  and  out  of  different  units  on  the 
campus,  pulling  them  all  together  into  the  Andy  Hamilton 
office.   And  this  had  to  do,  number  one,  with  a  public 
information  program — planned,  organized,  and  developed. 
Secondly,  [we  set  up]  a  campus  visitation  program.   After 
all,  the  UCLA  campus  was  becoming,  and  I  think  today  has 
become,  one  of  the  things  that  many  people  want  to  see — 
nonstudents,  people  from  abroad,  and  all  other  kinds  of 
people.   So  [we  had]  to  organize  this  visitation  program. 
Thirdly  was  the  publications  program.   It  was  a  wastage  of 
money  to  have  people  sending  out. ...   I  used  to  get  calls 
from  people  saying,  "Look,  I'm  getting  three  copies  of  this 
and  seven  copies  of  that.   What's  going  on  there?   Who's 
in  charge?"   So  this  had  to  be  pulled  together  and  organized. 
And  I  think,  in  retrospect,  Andy  Hamilton  did  really  a 
superior  job  with  his  people.   But  it  was  sheer  logic  and 
necessity  that  led  to  this.   Anybody  would  have  done  it  if 
they'd  just  seen  the  situation.   I  can't  recall;  have  we 
discussed  the  growth  of  the  fund  raising  and  the  Alumni 

MINK:   We  talked  about  your  fund  raising  and  your  special 
efforts  at  fund  raising,  with  what  you  call  "creative  fund 



MURPHY:   Yes,  and  the  way  this  has  finally  gotten  now 
organized  in  the  Chancellor's  Associates.   That  was  all 
related  to  this,  too,  you  know,  because  it  was  clear  that 
this  campus  was  doing  really  only  a  fraction  of  its  poten- 
tial in  generating  financial  resources  out  of  public  interest. 
And  so  all  of  these  things  sort  of  got  tied  together.   We 
tried  to  revitalize,  and  I  think  successfully,  the  Alumni 
Association  and  the  fund-raising  thing  and  tied  that  together 
to  Andy's  operation — not  directly  under  Andy,  but  sort  of 
guaranteeing  a  dialogue  at  the  very  top  between  the  alumni 
fellow  (in  that  case,  Doug  Kinsey)  and  Andy.   Chuck  was  my 
administrative  assistant.  Chuck  Young.   We  had  these  weekly 
meetings  where  everybody  knew  what  everybody  else  was  trying 
to  do.   I  must  say  that  I'm  enormously  pleased  how  success- 
fully the  fund-raising  program  has  gone  forward  under  Chuck 
and  Don  Bowman. 
MINK:   You  can  really  see  it. 

MURPHY:   But  back  in  those  days  when  I  came,  it  was  prac- 
tically nonexistent.   I  think  I  told  you  earlier  the  story 
about  the  Alumni  Association  puzzling  as  to  whether  they 
could  pay  a  couple  of  thousand  dollars  for  new  draperies. 
It's  in  one  of  the  tapes,  I  remember. 
MINK:   I  believe  so. 
MURPHY:   The  attitude  was  totally  different.   But  it  was  a 


part  of  that  old  inferiority.   Sure,  Berkeley  does  it, 

but  they're  old  and  they're  big  and  this  and  that.   We  can't 

quite  do  it.   I  don't  think  you  find  that  attitude.   I 

think  our  people  now  take  the  position  that  we  don't  know 

what  Berkeley's  doing.   That's  their  business.   We  do  our 

own  thing. 

MINK:   I  think  maybe  the  last  question  I  ought  to  ask  you 

is:   Looking  back  in  retrospect,  can  you  see  anything  that 

you  would  have  done  differently  now? 

MURPHY:   You  know  it  sounds  strange  to  say  this,  but  looking 

back,  I  don't  think  there's  a  single  thing  that  I  would  have 

done  differently,  because  given  the  personalities  involved, 

given  the  history,  the  things  that  were  done  really  had 

to  be  done.   And  I  can't  think  of  any  other  way  of  doing 


I  have  regrets.   I  regret  that  I  had  to  spend  so  much 
of  my  time  in  emotional  energy  on  what  I  call  "the  Berkeley 
battle."   You  know,  most  of  those  issues  have  been  resolved 
now.   They  could  have  been  resolved  right  at  the  beginning. 
UCLA  is  still  quite  as  much  a  part  of  the  University  of 
California  system  as  it  always  was.   The  battles  were  unneces- 
sary, but  in  view  of  the  fact  that  there  was  intransigence 
in  the  statewide  administration,  they  had  to  be  carried  out. 
If  UCLA  were  today  operating  under  the  restrictions  that 
I  found  when  I  came,  half  of  what  happened  could  not  have 


happened,  including  library  development,  new  programs, 
building  programs,  morale,  and  everything  else.   So  I 
cannot  say  that  I  would  do  anything  differently.   I  repeat, 
all  I  can  say  is  that  I  regret  that  we  had  to  waste  so  much 
time  on  struggle  when  that  time  could  have  been  invested  in 
mining  the  gold  in  the  community. 



Ackerman,  William 
Administration  Building,  UCLA 

see  Murphy  Hall,  UCLA 
Aldrich,  Dan 
Academic  Senate,  UCLA 

Committee  on  the  Budget 

Allen,  Raymond  B. 
Allen,  Mrs.  Raymond  B. 
Altman,  Ralph 
Alumni  Association,  UCLA 

Applied  Arts,  School  of,  UCLA 
Architecture  and  Urban  Planning, 

School  of,  UCLA 
Art,  Department  of,  UCLA 
Art  Council,  UCLA 
Associated  Students,  UCLA 


















28,  29,  33,  34,  49, 
174-182,  186-189, 
218,  235 

175,  182,  189,  235, 

14,  24,  34,  164,  186 

229,  233 

25,  55,  99,  102,  107, 
113,  114,  116,  190- 
197,  203,  259,  260, 


223,  224 


Baker,  George  Pierce  220 

Band,  Arnold  J.  200, 

Becket,  Welton  37 

Bel-Air  Hotel  41, 

Blue  Shield,  UCLA  191 

Bolton,  Earl  100- 


Bowman,  Donald  M,  196, 

Boyd,  Philip  L.  133, 

Bright,  David  224 

Bright,  Dolly  (Mrs.  David)  224- 

Brisman,  Shimeon  201 

British  Museum,  London  232 

Brown,  Edmund  G.  10  3, 

Brown  University  13, 

Bundy ,  McGeorge  1 

Burroughs  and  Wellcome  2  30 

Business  Administration,  Graduate 

School  of,  UCLA 

see  Management,  Graduate  School  of, 



101,  102,  108,  109, 
111,  113,  114,  116 


104,  157,  159 


Byrne,  Jerome  C. 

Report  on  the  University  of 

171,  173, 


Calder,  Alexander 

Button  Flower 
California  Institute  of  Technology 

School  of  Engineering 
California  State  Department  of 

California  State  Legislature 


Ways  and  Means  Committee 

Cambridge  University 
Campbell,  Lily  Bess 
Campbell,  W.W. 
Campbell  Hall,  UCLA 
Canaday,  John 

Carnegie  Corporation 
Carter,  Edward 

Chadwick,  Lynn 

Encounter  VIII 
Chancellor's  Associates,  UCLA 
Chandler,  Dorothy  (Mrs.  Norman) 

Chandler,  Norman 
Claremont  Hotel,  Berkeley 
Clift  Hotel,  San  Francisco 
Columbia  University 

Business  School 

Institute  of  Fine  Arts 

School  of  Law 
Commission  on  Higher  Education  in 

American  Republics  (CHEAR) 
Connell,  Michael  J.,  Memorial  Fund 
Corday,  Eliot 
Cor ley,  James 
Cornell,  Ralph 
Cornell  University 

School  of  Engineering 


9-10,  26 

39,  172,  207 
















83,  141 




55-56,  60, 
88,  119,  120, 

243,  256 

1,  17,  19,  54,  60,  61, 

64,  68,  79,  115,  119, 
163,  180,  203,  204,  243, 


194,  196,  260 

21,  22,  60,  64-65,  73,  74, 

87,  119,  135-136,  137, 

161,  163,  243 

21,  22,  169 

203,  256 


9,  13-14,  16 

206,  246 
201,  202 
57,  58,  59 

12,  18 


Crockwell,  Martha  Murphy 
Cummings,  Ted 



Davidson,  Gordon 
Davis,  Angela 
Davis,  M.  Philip 

Davis,  W.  Thomas 

Deans,  Council  of,  UCLA 

Debs,  Ernest 

Democratic  party,  California 

Democratic  party,  Kansas 

Dentistry,  School  of,  UCLA 

Deutsch,  Monroe 

Dickey,  Judith  Murphy 

Dickson,  Edward  A. 

Dickson,  Wilhelmina  (Mrs.  Edward) 

Dickson  Art  Center,  UCLA 

Dickson  Court,  UCLA 

Diebenkorn,  Richard 

Docking,  George 

Docking,  Robert 

Docking,  Virginia  (Mrs.  George) 

Dodd,  Paul 

Dodds,  Harold 

Dow  Chemical  Company 

DuBridge,  Lee 

Dudley,  George 

Dykstra,  Clarence 

Dykstra  Hall,  UCLA 




170,  178,  182,  184,  251 

23,  47,  54-55,  56-57, 

58-59,  193,  256 

54,  107,  110,  111, 

115-116,  120, 




103,  104 

3,  4,  5,  6 

179,  216, 


26,  30 

23,  47,  54, 


216,  222 



2-9,  10-11, 

5,  11 

3,  5,  11 

32-33,  51 



39,  65,  207, 

236,  237 

15,  24,  44, 


217,  235 


13,  19 


55-56,  164 

Eddy,  Arthur  C. 

Engineering,  School  of,  UCLA 

Ethnomusicology ,  Institute  of, 

Extension  Division,  UCLA 




Faculty  Center,  UCLA 
Fine  Arts,  College  of,  UCLA 
Fleischmann,  Jerry 
Forbes,  William 


179,  212-215,  217,  235 
48,  49 

17,  23,  54,  64,  73,  87, 
119,  120,  199,  243 


Ford  Foundation 
Frederickson,  Hansena 

Free  Speech  Movement 


Galbraith,  John  S. 
Galleries,  UCLA 
Gardner,  John 
Goheen,  Robert 
Gold  Shield,  UCLA 
Goodhill,  Victor 
Gould,  Sam 
Gould,  Mrs.  Sam 
Graduate  Council,  UCLA 
Gross,  Alice  Murphy 


30,  42-44 
148,  162 

45,  56, 



1,  17 

13,  219 



70-71,  97 

70,  71 




Hail  to  the  Hills  of  Westwood 

Haines  Hall,  UCLA 
Haldeman,  H.R. 
Hallmark  Cards,  Inc. 
Hamilton,  Andrew  J. 

Hannum,  Paul 
Harvard  University 

Business  School 

Fogg  Museum 

Law  School 

Medical  School 
Hatcher,  Harlan 
Hearst,  Catherine 
Hedrick,  Earle  R. 
Heifetz,  Jascha 
Heller,  Elinor 
Hepworth,  Barbara 

Oval  Form 
Heyns,  Esther  (Mrs.  Roger) 
Heyns,  Roger 

Hinderaker,  Ivan 

Hitch,  Charles  J. 

Home  Economics,  Department  of,  UCLA 

Hood,  Mantle 

Houseman,  John 




120,  168 


106,  109 

122,  225 


1,  220,  238 

180,  238,  239 





85-86,  88,  133 


217,  218 

17,  119,  120 



147,  148,  149 



51,  92,  141-151,  152,  154 



72,  73,  165,  170-171 

212-213,  250 




Inglis,  Frances  211 

Intercollegiate  Athletics,  Department   254-257 
of,  UCLA 

Jacoby,  Neil 

Johns,  Wilbur 

Johns  Hopkins  University 

School  of  Medicine 
Johnson,  Lyndon 
Jones,  Quincy 




102,  103,  105,  116 




Kansas  State  Legislature 

Kaplan,  Abbott 
Keeney,  Barnaby  C. 
Kellems,  Jesse  R. 
Kerckhoff  Hall,  UCLA 
Kerr,  Clark 

Kerr,  Kay  (Mrs.  Clark) 

Kinsey,  Douglas  K. 

Knudsen,  Vern  O. 
Knudsen,  Mrs.  Vern  0. 

3,  5,  8,  9,  11 

3,  4 


211,  215,  218 


56,  57 


1,  9,  14,  15-16,  17,  19, 

26,  29,  32,  33,  38,  39, 

40,  42-45,  50-53,  60, 

64-69,  72-74,  78,  79, 

81-164,  171,  178,  179, 

182,  183,  184,  187,  188, 

190,  239,  257 

15,  69-72,  87,  110,  111, 

112,  113,  116 

99,  190,  193-195,  209, 


20,  25 


Law,  School  of,  UCLA 

Lawrence,  Kansas 

Letters  and  Science,  College  of, 

Library,  UCLA 
Lipchitz,  Jacques 

Song  of  the  Vowels 

The  Bather 
Longway,  Harry 
Lopez  Mateos,  Adolf o 

55,  57 

2,  3,  241 


49,  62-64,  72,  239-247 

223,  225 



99,  192 

102,  103,  105 


Los  Angeles 

Los  Angeles  County  Museum  of  Art 
Los  Angeles  Police  Department 
Los  Angeles  Times  (newspaper) 


McDowell,  Joe 
Macgowan,  Kenneth 
McHenry,  Dean 

McHenry,  Mrs.  Dean 

McLaughlin,  Donald  H. 

Malott,  D.W. 

Management,  Graduate  School  of,  UCLA 

Massachusetts  Institute  of  Technology 

School  of  Engineering 
Maugham,  Surrey  Wellcome 
Maugham,  W.  Somerset 
Mayer,  Louis  B. ,  Foundation 
Medical  Center,  UCLA 
Medicine,  School  of,  UCLA 

Melnitz,  William 

Memorial  Activities  Center,  UCLA 
see  also  Pauley  Pavilion,  UCLA 
Meyerson,  Martin 

Military  Science,  Department  of,  UCLA 
Milner,  Carolyn  Murphy 
Moore,  Ernest  Carroll 
Moore,  Henry 

Reclining  Figure 
Morgan,  Elder 
Morgan,  J.D. 
Mrak,  Emil 

Murphy,  Carolyn 

see  Milner,  Carolyn  Murphy 
Murphy,  Cordelia  (Mrs.  Franklin  E. ) 
Murphy,  Franklin  E. 
Murphy,  Franklin  Lee 
Murphy,  Judith 

see  Dickey,  Judith  Murphy 
Murphy,  Judy  (Mrs.  Franklin  D.) 

Murphy,  Lee 
Murphy,  Martha, 

see  Crockwell,  Martha  Murphy 











17,  34,  35,  41,  66, 
68,  80,  143,  150, 






216,  217 

55,  57-59 

179,  217 

213,  215, 

203,  256 


26,  30 
22,  44 



255,  256 

66,  95-97, 

151,  152 




123,  143,  150 



3,  10,  11,  16,  17,  19,  20, 
30,  31,  32,  69-70,  71,  86- 
87,  107,  111,  113,  114, 
148,  166,  225 


Murphy  Hall,  UCLA  247 

Murphy,  Franklin  D. ,  Sculpture  216, 

Garden,  UCLA 

Museum  of  Cultural  History,  UCLA  226- 

Museum  of  Modern  Art,  New  York  225 

Music,  Department  of,  UCLA  217-218 

Music  Center  of  Los  Angeles  County  215 




Naffziger,  Howard  C. 

Nay lor,  Nancy 

Neumann,  Bob 

Nursing,  School  of,  UCLA 


108,  109 


Occidental  College 
O'Malley,  CD. 
O'Neill,  Eugene 
Oswald,  Louis 
Oxford  University 


229-230,  232 




Pacific  Coast  Conference 
Pauley,  Bobbie  (Mrs.  Edwin) 
Pauley,  Edwin  W. 

Pauley  Pavilion,  UCLA 

Perkins,  James 

Physical  Education,  Department  of, 

Piatigorsky,  Gregor 
Pickerell,  Al 
Placement  Center,  UCLA 
Powell,  Lawrence  Clark 
Primrose,  William 
Princeton  Index  of  Christian  Art 
Princeton  University 
Public  Affairs  Services,  Office  of, 

Public  Health,  School  of,  UCLA 
Public  Information,  Office  of,  UCLA 
Publications,  Office  of,  UCLA 










14,  15,  16-17,  19,  41, 

60,  64,  68,  98,  103- 
,  115,  117-118,  119, 
,  163,  203-205,  206, 
,  256 
,  204 

217,  218 

112,  113,  121,  122 


49-50,  240,  241-242 

217,  218 


13,  18,  219 


216,  217,  235,  250 

188,  257-259 



Rafferty,  Max 
Reagan,  Ronald 

Reinhardt,  Max 

Rensselaer  Polytechnic  Institute 

Republican  party,  Kansas 

Robb,  Agnes 

Rockefeller  Foundation 

Roth,  William  M. 

Royce  Hall,  UCLA 



163,  167, 



3,  4 







St.  Francis  Hotel,  San  Francisco 

San  Francisco 

Saunders,  John 

Savio,  Mario 

Seaborg,  Glenn 

Sherwood,  Foster 

Simon,  Lucille  (Mrs.  Norton) 
Simon,  Norton 
Speroni,  Charles 
Sproul,  Robert  G. 

Sproul,  Mrs.  Robert  G. 
Sproul  Hall,  UCLA 
Stanford  University 

Department  of  Art  History 
State  University  of  New  York 
State  University  of  New  York,  Buffalo 
Stein,  Jules 
Steinhart,  Jesse 
Strong,  Ed 

Students  for  a  Democratic  Society 
Swedenberg,  Tom 



85,  130 

94,  97,  133-134,  158 


92,  93,  146 
25,  33-34,  37,  45, 
90,  174,  177,  189 

120,  137-138,  161,  223 

1,  14,  15,  24 
57,  58,  59,  61,  91, 
140,  144,  145,  148, 
238,  239,  257 








85,  87-88 

93,  94,  97,  125-128,  129, 

44,  55, 






Theatre  Group,  UCLA 
Times-Mirror  Corporation 
Topping,  Norman 
Truman,  Harry  S 


168,  169 

65,  207,  208,  209-210 

1,  14 



UCLA  Foundation  190,  196-199 

UCLA  on  the  Move  (book)  54 

U.S.  Atomic  Energy  Commission  9  3 

U.S.  Department  of  State  10  8 

U.S.  Secret  Service  107,  109 

University  of  California  1,  14-21,  22-23,  27-29, 

32,  37-165,  167,  168, 
169,  170-174,  175,  176, 
177,  179,  182,  183,  184, 
185,  187,  189,  190,  199, 
238,  239,  243-246,  249 
255,  258,  261 
Academic  Senate  172,  176 

Board  of  Regents  1,  9,  14,  15,  16,  17,  24, 

27,  29,  33,  34,  38,  39, 
40-41,  50,  51,  52,  54, 
58,  59,  60,  61,  62,  64, 
65,  66,  67,  68,  69,  72, 
73,  74,  77,  79,  80-89, 
90,  91,  93,  94,  95,  98, 
99,  103,  104,  107,  108, 
110,  114,  115,  116-117, 
118,  119-120,  121,  125- 
128,  129-130,  132,  133, 

134,  135-138,  141,  142, 
144,  145,  146,  147,  149, 
152,  153-155,  158,  160, 
161,  162,  163,  164,  165, 
172,  173,  174,  179,  182, 
183,  184-185,  187,  188, 
194,  199,  243,  244,  245, 
255,  256,  257 

Building  and  Grounds  Committee    7  3 
Office  of  the  President  40,  83,  85,  106,  153 

University  of  California,  Berkeley      1,  38,  45,  50,  51,  52,  57, 

61,  62,  63,  64,  74,  75, 
76,  79,  80,  84,  85,  87, 
90,  91,  92,  93,  95,  97, 
99,  120,  121,  125,  126, 
128,  129,  131-133,  134- 

135,  140-151,  154,  155, 
158,  159,  164,  165,  177, 
181,  185,  199,  203,  205, 
206,  235,  236,  242,  243, 
245,  246,  247,  249,  251, 
252,  255,  258,  261 

Boalt  Hall  181,  238 


San  Fran- 


Santa  Cruz 

University  of  California,  Berkeley, 

California  Alumni  Association 

Department  of  Art  History 

Department  of  Slavic  Languages 


School  of  Business  Administration 

University  House 
University  of  California, 
University  of  California, 
University  of  California, 
University  of  California, 

School  of  Dentistry 
University  of  California, 

University  of  California, 
University  of  California  Press 
University  of  Chicago 

School  of  Business 

School  of  Law 
University  of  Kansas 

Board  of  Regents 

Department  of  English 

Endowment  Association 


School  of  Medicine 

University  of  London 

University  of  Michigan 

University  of  Minnesota 

University  of  Southern  California 

University  Research  Library,  UCLA 





,  96,  126,  133 

,  79 

-58,  134,  158,  181,  238 


70,  79,  92 























3,  4,  7,  8,  10,  11, 
13,  20,  22,  27,  28, 
38,  41,  167,  191,  192, 

198,  222,  239,  240, 


142,  143 

24,  172,  207,  209,  218, 
243,  246-247 

Vaughn,  John 
Vosper,  Robert 


63,  200,  201,  239,  240- 

242,  244 


Warren,  Earl 
Weiner,  Lillian 
Wellcome,  Henry 
Wellcome  Foundation 




Wellcome  Medical  History 

and  Library 
Wellman,  Harry 


Westwood,  Los  Angeles 

Wight,  Frederick  S. 

Wight,  Frederick  S.,  Art  Gallery, 

Wilson,  0.  Meredith 
Wooden,  John 
Woolman,  Marge 
Wortham,  Jim 
Wriston,  Henry 

230,  231,  232 

17,  38,  39,  40,  41,  43, 
44,  45-46,  50,  51,  77, 
78,  81,  84-85,  86,  87, 
90,  98,  139,  140,  141, 
146,  147,  153,  155-157, 


161,  164 

221,  223,  234 

8,  142 




Yale  University 

School  of  Law 
Young,  Charles 

Young,  Colin 
Young,  William 

34-36,  37 









36-37,  45,  47,  89,  90 

90,  117 
,  169- 
,  253, 



Director ' s  note ;   On  August  17,  1967,  Verne  A.  Stadtman 
interviewed  UCLA  Chancellor  Franklin  D.  Murphy,  as  part  of 
Stadtman 's  research  for  preparing  The  Centennial  Record  of 
the  University  of  California,  1868-1968.   Stadtman  later 
forwarded  to  Dr.  Murphy  a  draft  transcript  for  review  and 
corrections,  which  Murphy  approved,  but  stipulated  that  it 
not  be  made  available  to  the  public  until  his  death. 
Following  Murphy's  death  on  June  16,  1994,  I  reviewed  the 
draft  transcript  and  file  of  correspondence  among  Stadtman, 
Murphy,  and  James  V.  Mink,  former  Head,  UCLA  Department  of 
Special  Collections,  and  decided  to  append  Stadtman 's  1967 
interview  to  the  interview  which  the  UCLA  Oral  History 
Program  had  conducted  with  Murphy  in  1973.   What  follows  is 
the  text  of  the  transcript  as  reviewed  and  approved  by 
Murphy  in  1967,  subject  only  to  minor  editorial 
modifications  to  conform  with  the  Oral  History  Program's 
current  format  and  policies  on  punctuation,  proper  name 
identification,  and  paragraphing.   The  original  draft 
typescript  approved  by  Murphy  is  on  file  in  the  offices  of 
the  Oral  History  Program.   There  are  no  corresponding 

--Dale  E.  Treleven,  UCLA  Oral  History  Program 
July  11,  1994 

STADTMAN:   Let  us  go  right  down  the  questions:   How  were  you 
approached  about  becoming  Chancellor  here? 
MURPHY:   I  was  approached  while  Clark  Kerr  and  I  were 
members  at  that  time  of  something  called  the  Commission  on 
Higher  Education  in  the  American  Republic.   We  were  at  a 
meeting  together--this  I  think  was  in  1959--in  Santiago, 
Chile,  and  he  had  previously  called  me  by  phone  and  told  me 
that  the  [University  of  California  Board  of]  regents  were 
interested  in  the  possibility  of  my  becoming  chancellor,  did 


I  have  any  interest.   I  said,  well,  I  would  be  willing  to 

talk  with  him,  and  we  agreed  that  we  would  talk,  which  we 

did  in  Santiago,  Chile,  in  the  spring  of  1950,  late 

February.   Subsequently,  I  agreed  to  look  at  the  job  and 

came  twice  to  California  and  met  the  regents  and  had  visits 

with  the  regents  in  San  Francisco  at  one  of  their  meetings 

and  met  some  of  the  faculty  here,  and  in  essence  that  was 

it.   And  that  answers  your  second  question,  namely  that  Kerr 

was  my  first  contact  in  the  matter. 

STADTMAN:   Now  about  the  third. 

MURPHY:   I  was  unaware  of  the  fact  that  I  had  been  a 

candidate  for  the  presidency  in  1958,  was  told  that  only  two 

or  three  years  later  by  a  couple  of  the  regents.   I  was 

completely  unaware  of  it  when  I  was  approached  as 


STADTMAN:   Had  you  met  any  of  the  regents  at  that  time? 

MURPHY:   I  knew  no  regents  at  all.   I  had  known  Bob  [Robert 

Gordon]  Sproul  rather  well. 

STADTMAN:   So  if  you  had  been  put  on  the  list,  probably  that 

was  the  direction. 

MURPHY:   I  would  suppose. 

STADTMAN:   What  attracted  you  to  the  position  at  that  time? 

UCLA  had  had  some  troubles  up  until-- 

MURPHY:   Two  things,  basically.   I  was  then  convinced  and 

still  remain  convinced--indeed  I  think  there  is  more 


evidence  of  it  now  than  even  then- -that  UCLA  as  such  had  the 
potential  of  becoming  one  of  the  distinguished  universities 
of  the  country.   I  am  more  convinced  of  that  now  than  I  was 
even  then,  and  I  think  it  is  well  on  its  way.   So  one  saw  in 
the  job--at  least  I  saw  in  it--the  chance  to  be  involved  in 
a  creative  development,  but  one  that  I  felt  had  almost  a 
guarantee  of  success  as  well,  if  it  were  done  reasonably 
well.   Secondly,  I  was  then,  and  am  even  more  now,  convinced 
of  the  excitement  of  living  in  Southern  California, 
especially  Los  Angeles.   I  came,  you  recall,  seven  years 
ago,  and  Los  Angeles  was  just  beginning  at  that  time--but 
you  could  really  smell  it  and  sense  it--to  explode  in 
cultural  and  creative  terms.   It  was  a  very  fortunate  time 
to  have  come  because,  by  virtue  of  my  job,  I  was  immediately 
catapulted  into  the  cultural  developments  of  the  area,  the 
music  center  [Los  Angeles  County  Music  Center],  the  art 
museum  [Los  Angeles  County  Museum  of  Art],  etc.   So  it  was 
the  excitement,  the  creative  excitement  that  I  saw  both  in 
UCLA  and  in  the  city  of  Los  Angeles,  on  the  other  side. 
STADTMAN:   You  had  been  aware  of  the  difficulties  of  the 

MURPHY:   Yes,  I  had.   That  leads  to  the  next  question:  "Was 
the  scope  of  the  job  fairly  represented  to  you  before  you 
came?"   I  will  answer  this  frankly  and  with  candor:   It  was 
not.   I  had  thought,  and  perhaps--  In  retrospect,  I  thought 


many  times  that  I  should  have  been  more  precise  in  my 
questioning.   I  took  a  little  bit  too  much  on  faith.   I  had 
thought  that  the  authority  of  the  chancellor  was  far  greater 
than  it  turned  out  to  be  after  I  got  on  the  job,  and  that 
perhaps  leads  into  question  number  six. 

MURPHY:   I  think  there  is  no  secret  that  from  the  day  I 
arrived,  or  shortly  thereafter,  I  discovered  the  realities. 
Let  me  say  parenthetically,  going  back  to  the  previous 
question,  I  had  been  warned  by  a  number  of  people  not  to 
take  the  job.   I  had  run  the  University  of  Kansas  as  its 
chief  executive  officer.   It  was  a  smaller  university, 
actually,  than  UCLA,  but  I  had  full  authority  with  direct 
responsibility  to  the  regents.   I  had  been  warned  by  a 
number  of  very  knowledgeable  people  in  American  higher 
education  that  I  really  shouldn't  take  the  job  at  UCLA 
because  it  was  really  impossible,  they  said.   They  said  it 
was  impossible  for  two  reasons:   that  the  chancellor  would 
be  ground  between  the  great  tradition  of  faculty  autonomy 
and  control  on  the  one  hand  and  the  centralized 
administrative  control  from  Berkeley  on  the  other  hand;  that 
the  chancellor  had  an  awful  lot  of  responsibility,  and  that 
this  was  the  kind  of  situation  that  would  destroy  a  man.   As 
I  say-- I  am  now  repeating  a  little  bit--having  been  told 
this  by  people,  I  asked  some  very  specific  questions  of 


President  Kerr  and  of  the  regents,  and  I  must  say  that,  in 
retrospect,  either  I  asked  the  wrong  questions  or  I  didn't 
get  very  clear  answers.   I  took  the  job  assuming  that  a  lot 
more  authority  would  have  been  mine  than,  in  fact,  I 
discovered  was. 

For  example,  I  found  it  almost  incredible  to  believe 
that  at  the  first  commencement  it  was  expected  that  the 
president  would  give  the  degrees  to  my  students.   I  said, 
"You  know,  this  is  ridiculous.   You  are  responsible  for  the 
students  on  the  campus.   You  are  supposed  to  be  the  leader; 
[they  are]  supposed  to  look  to  you  for  leadership.   And  then 
at  the  critical  moment  in  their  lives  when  the  degree  is 
granted,  the  chancellor  sits  on  the  stage  like  anybody  else! 
You  may  recall  that  this  was  the  first  real  confrontation. 
And  ever  since  I  have  been  here,  I  have  given  the 
undergraduate  degree.   I  am  speaking  about  the  degrees  in 
course,  not  the  honorary  degrees.   Things  like  that. 

I  found  it  incredible  to  believe  that  the  final 
decision,  at  least  before  the  regents,  in  terms  of 
appointment  and  promotion  of  tenure  faculty  didn't  lie  with 
the  chancellor.   After  all,  he  worked  with  the  faculty,  it 
was  his  faculty.   I  am  not  now  speaking  about  the  [Academic] 
Senate  input  but  the  administrative  decision,  things  of  this 
sort.   So  that  comes  to  number  six,  and  I  would  say  that 
there  are--  The  question  is  "What  have  been  your  most 


difficult  challenges  as  chancellor?"   I  think  the  first  one, 
basically,  has  been  that  I  have  had  to  fight  for--  I  think 
the  record  is  probably  clear  on  this--I  am  trying  to  be  just 
as  candid  as  I  can- -that  in  the  beginning  I  was  alone  even 
among  chancellors  for  a  basic  decentralization  of  the 
administration  of  the  university.   I  have  said  many  times 
that  the  governance  of  the  university  had  not  been  arranged 
by  the  regents  to  match  its  enormous  growth,  that  you  were 
in  danger  of  creating  a  dinosaur  with  a  huge  body  and  a 
little  nervous  system  that  was  incapable  of  managing  this 
vast  enterprise.   I  have  said  that  policy  should  be 
centralized--that  is,  basic  university  statewide  policy 
should  be  centralized--but  that  once  decisions,  budgetary  and 
otherwise,  are  made,  administration  should  be  left  to  the 
campus.   The  name  of  the  game  should  be  post  audit  rather 
than  looking  over  people's  shoulders.   I  would  say  that  the 
most  difficult  challenge  has  been  trying  to  fight  through 
within  the  system  my  very  strong  views  about  matching  the 
authority  of  the  chancellor  with  his  responsibilities  and 
what  the  public  and  the  regents  have  expected  of  him. 
I  think,  incidentally,  this  terrible  division  of 
authority  and  responsibility  really  accounts  for  the  fact 
that  I  have  been  in  this  system  for  only  seven  years  and  I 
am  the  second-oldest  chancellor  in  service.   You  add  up 
the  number  of  chancellors  that  have  been  around  in  this 


system  in  the  last  seven  years  and  you  will  discover  that 
it  is  over  twenty,  including  three  at  [University  of 
California]  Berkeley  and  two  or  three  at  [University  of 
California]  San  Diego  and  two  or  three  at  [University  of 
California]  Santa  Barbara,  and  two  at  [University  of 
California]  Riverside,  and  so  on.   And  the  reason  that  you 
did  not  have  chancellors  that  could  survive  the  difficult 
strains  and  pressures,  for  one  reason  and  another,  was  that 
you  gave  them  all  this  responsibility  but  the  authority  was 
completely  blurred  and  divided  between  the  regents,  who 
wouldn't  give  it  to  the  president,  and  the  president,  who 
wouldn't  give  it  to  the  chancellors,  or  who  couldn't  because 
the  regents  still  had  it,  and  so  on. 

STADTMAN:   This  is  the  question  that  I  wanted  to  clarify: 
When  you  were  first  aware  that  the  chancellor  did  not  have 
the  authority  that  you  thought  he  would  have,  is  it  your 
impression  that  he  did  not  have  it  because  the  president  did 
not  have  it  to  give  or--? 

MURPHY:   Or  whether  the  president  didn't  want  to  give  it? 
My  view  is  that  it  was  both.   I  think  that  the  record  is 
clear.   Clark  Kerr  had  suffered  under  this  as  chancellor. 
When  he  became  president,  he  moved  very  strongly  and  quickly 
to  make  some  acts  of  decentralization.   I  think  that  the 
record  is  equally  clear,  however,  that  as  time  went  by  the 
degree  of  enthusiasm  for  decentralizing--I  am  speaking  of 


operation,  not  long-range  policy- -became  less.   At  that 
point  I  think  the  record  is  clear.   Part  of  the  reason  had 
to  do  with  the  fact  that  he  didn't  have  it  to  give.   There 
is  no  question  about  that.   On  the  other  hand,  in  my  view-- 
and  I  think  there  is  some  record  on  this- -there  were  some 
things  that  President  Kerr  felt,  even  if  the  regents  were  to 
give,  should  in  fact  not  be  decentralized.   A  very  good 
example  of  this  is  the  final  decision  on  tenure  and 

STADTMAN:   I  understand  that  you  and  John  [S.]  Galbraith 
apparently  led  the  fight  on  that. 

MURPHY:   With  Roger  [W.]  Heyns  in  full  agreement,  although 
he  was  a  little  late  in  coming.   We  felt  that  this  was  the 
ultimate  symbol.   If  the  chancellor  could  in  fact  look  his 
faculty  in  the  face  and  say,  "I  am  the  administrative 
head"--  There  was  nothing  more  symbolic  and  important  than 
this  particular  act.   Galbraith  and  I  did  lead  the  fight  on 
it.   Heyns  joined  up  very  soon  after  he  came.   He,  I  think- - 
You  will  have  a  chance  to  visit  with  him,  and  he  will  give 
his  views  on  this. 
STADTMAN:   Sure. 

MURPHY:   Now,  the  second  basic  problem  that  I  have  had  as 
chancellor  has  been  to  bring  UCLA  and  the  community  and  Los 
Angeles  into  some  kind  of  relationship  and  dialogue.   When  I 
arrived  here  I  discovered  very  quickly  that  UCLA  really  was 


not  regarded  by  the  establishment  and  the  structure  in  Los 
Angeles  as  their  institution.   It  was  an  institution  located 

STADTMAN:   What  was? 

MURPHY:   USC  [University  of  Southern  California],  I  would 
suspect,  because  of  time  and  age  and  so  forth.   I  have 
worked  very  hard,  both  in  terms  of  my  personal  participation 
in  the  life  of  the  city  and  in  encouraging  our  faculty  and 
deans  to  become  involved  in,  as  appropriate,  the  life  of  the 
city  and  the  area  of  Southern  California.   To  somehow  weave 
the  image  of  the  university  into  the  area  in  which  it  is 
located  and  to  get  an  increasing  number  of  people  to 
understand  that  it  is  their  university  and  not  somebody 
else's  up  north  or  something,  you  know.   I  must  say  that 
this  is  terribly  important  in  a  place  like  Los  Angeles, 
where  you  have  such  a  vast  input  of  new,  nonnative 
population.   People  who  got  their  degrees,  college  people, 
in  the  East  and  the  Middle  West  and  then  come  here  to  live-- 
In  a  positive  sense,  this  is  vast  in-migration.   And  I  have 
been  deeply  interested  in  building  up  what  I  called  the  dual 
loyalty,  the  loyalty  of  the  Harvard  [University]  man  to  his 
institution  of  Harvard  but  at  the  same  time  getting  him  to 
recognize  that,  now  he  is  living  in  Southern  California,  he 
has  some  stake  in  the  development  of  the  importance  of  UCLA. 
STADTMAN:   Gee,  Chancellor  Murphy,  this  doesn't  square  away 


with  the  picture  that  people  have  of  UCLA  being  the  darling 
of  Southern  California. 

MURPHY:   Seven  years  ago  it  was  not.   You  should  talk  to 
some  of  the  regents.   The  first  thing  that  Mrs.  [Dorothy 
Buff urn]  Chandler,  the  first  thing  that  Ed  [Edward  W.] 
Carter,  the  thing  that  John  [E.]  Canaday,  Bill  [William  E.] 
Forbes  all  said  to  me  is  "We  have  got  somehow  to  bring  UCLA 
into  the  mainstream  of  the  life  of  Los  Angeles;  people  don't 
regard  it  as  having  this  kind  of  relationship."   But  anyway, 
whether  it  was  needed  or  not,  this  had  been  a  major  concern 
of  mine. 

A  third  challenge  had  been  to  work  on  the  so-called 
inferiority  complex  of  UCLA,  the  little  brother  complex.   We 
might  as  well  touch  on  it  now  because  it  has  been  a  major 
factor.   Here  again,  I  am  going  to  be  very  candid.   The 
story  of  the  difficulty  of  the  birth  of  UCLA  is  well  known 
and  documented.   At  the  time  the  [University  of  California] 
Southern  Branch  was  created,  the  administrators  in  Berkeley 
didn't  want  it.   It  was  forced  on  them  almost  by  threat: 
either  Southern  California  would  have  a  state  university 
presence  as  part  of  the  system  of  the  University  of 
California,  or  if  Berkeley  wanted  to  keep  its  head  in  the 
sand,  then  a  new  university  would  be  established.   It  was 
the  latter  threat  as  much  as  anything  that  finally  pushed 
this  through.   At  that  time  there  was  one  southern  regent, 


Edward  [A.]  Dickson,  and  all  the  rest  were  north  of  the 
Tehachapi  [Mountains]  and  mainly  from  the  Bay  Area.   And  the 
position  of  the  then  president--I  forget  exactly  whether  it 
was  [Benjamin  I.]  Wheeler  or  [William  W. ]  Campbell--is  also 
clear  in  the  record.   This  was  finally  accomplished. 

Again,  the  record  is  clear  and  there  are  people  still 
around  that  could  be  interviewed.   For  example,  the  Southern 
Branch,  and  even  when  we  came  to  the  new  campus,  forty  years 
ago--  At  that  time  the  commitment  was  clear  that  there  would 
be  no  graduate  study  at  UCLA.   There  would  be  no  graduate 
study,  which  meant  there  would  be  no  Ph.D.  degrees  or  no 
professional  schools.   This  was  to  be  a  feeder  to  Berkeley 
of  undergraduates.   Now,  the  record  is  clear.   The  School  of 
Engineering,  the  School  of  Law,  the  School  of  Medicine  were 
in  essence  forced  upon  the  university.   And  I  have  had  long 
conversations  with  Phil  [M.  Philip]  Davis  and  Ernie  [Ernest 
E.]  Debs,  who  were  in  the  legislature  at  that  time,  and  they 
tell  me  the  story.   It  is  not  a  pleasant  story.   But  this 
was  all  known.   This  was  all  known  to  these  people  down 
here,  one  way  or  another. 

Then  when  there  was  suspicion  that  was  expressed  to  me 
by  the  faculty--  "Why  is  it  that  the  Berkeley  library  budget 
is  X  times  that  of  UCLA?   Why  is  it  that  the  faculty-student 
ratio  is  remarkably  different  between  the  two  campuses?" 
Why  this,  why  that,  why  this?   And  one  of  my  first  jobs  was 


first  of  all  to  get  the  facts.   You  can't  begin  to  try  to 
convince  people  that  they  have  got  to  grow  up  and  be  mature 
unless  you  can  honestly  talk  to  them.   And  the  facts  were 
not  very  pleasant  when  I  finally  got  them.   I  will  give  you 
one  example:   At  that  time  the  incidental  fee,  which  is 
collected  from  all  of  the  students  of  the  university  to  take 
care  of  nonacademic  requirements  of  the  university,  was 
collected  from  every  student  and  then  sent  to  Berkeley, 
where  the  statewide  administration  distributed  that 
incidental  fee  in  terms  of  the  so-called  extracurricular 
student  needs.   I  discovered  when  I  came  that  X  number  of 
dollars  was  going  annually  from  UCLA  to  Berkeley  but 
distributed  back  was  X  number  of  dollars  minus  a  very 
considerable  number  of  dollars  to  service  UCLA  campus 
extracurricular  needs,  whereas  Berkeley  put  in  Y  number  of 
dollars  on  the  same  formula  and  got  back  Y  plus  a  very 
substantial  number  of  dollars.   Whereas  the  UCLA  needs  were, 
in  effect,  greater  than  the  Berkeley  needs:   it  was  younger; 
it  didn't  have  the  endowments  and  other  kinds  of  things.   It 
took  me  a  long  time  to  get  these  data,  but  when  I  got  them  I 
forced  the  issue,  and  finally,  about  three  years  after  that 
the  incidental  fee  was  collected  on  the  campus  and  kept 
there  and  it  was  decided  that  Berkeley  would  have  to  live 
within  the  amount  of  fees  that  it  got  from  its  students  just 
as  we  do . 


We  discovered  an  enormous  differential  between  the 
library  budgets  of  the  two  institutions,  even  when 
calculated  on  a  per  capita  faculty  or  student  basis.   Here 
again  we  demanded  equity.   We  still  don't  quite  have  it,  but 
we  are  in  the  process  of  almost  getting  it.   This  is  when 
the  regents  created  their  long-range  library  plan  in  which 
they  stated  there  would  be  two  major  libraries,  north  and 
south,  with  the  other  institutions  depending  upon  these 
major  research  libraries  for  support.   The  faculty-student 
ratio  was  very,  very  different.   The  amount  of  money  per 
faculty  member  for  organized  research  in  Berkeley- -from  the 
state,  that  is--was  substantially  in  excess  of  that  at  UCLA. 
In  other  words,  it  was  perfectly  clear  that  the  complaints 
of  the  UCLA  faculty  were  not  just  dog  in  the  manger. 
STADTMAN:   Yeah. 

MURPHY:   And  I  felt  my  job  here  then  was  twofold:   first  of 
all,  to  get  what  I  call  simple  equity  on  the  one  hand  and, 
second,  having  achieved  simple  equity,  say  to  this  faculty, 
"Stop  all  of  this  crybaby  nonsense  and  let  us  get  on  with 
the  business."   You  can't  earn  what  Berkeley  has  earned  over 
a  hundred  years  of  distinguished  service  to  society  by 
crying  about  the  fact  that  they  have  got  it,  and  as  a  matter 
of  fact  you  don't  want  to  take  it  away  from  them.   I  always 
said,  incidentally,  that  the  achievement  of  equity  between 
Berkeley  and  UCLA  should  not  be  at  the  expense  of  Berkeley, 


that  the  regents  and  the  statewide  administration  had  to 
fight  to  get  additional  resources  which  would  go  to  us, 
rather  than  taking  resources  from  Berkeley,  the  balance. 
This  has  been  my  position  and  it  has  been  clear.   Now,  in 
addition  to  this  we  had  the  problem,  to  close  this  issue 
out--  We  tried  to  get  simple  equity  in  terms  of  financial 
treatment  on  some  reasonably  agreed-to  formula  that  would 
not  do  violence  to  Berkeley  but  would  simply  give  us  what  we 
deserved  to  do  the  job.   And,  secondly,  I  have  said  to  the 
faculty,  "As  we  get  this,  then,  get  on  about  your  business 
and  stop  grumbling  about  history!   This  is  history,  and 
forget  it.   We  are  dealing  with  the  present  and  the  future." 
My  next  problem,  as  I  view  it,  has  been  to  try  to  build 
a  sense  of  identity  in  UCLA  itself.   When  I  came  here  this 
was  essentially  a  commuting  campus.   It  was  a  campus  in 
which  both  student  body  and  alumni  had  no  facilities  or 
resources  at  all  to  provide  really  on-campus  vitality  or 
visibility  or  activity.   All  the  major  athletic  events  were 
played  away  from  the  campus  because  there  were  no  facilities 
here.   The  kinds  of  things  that  Berkeley  or  Harvard  or  Yale 
[University]  or  Princeton  [University]  or  Stanford 
[University]  could  do  about  homecoming  weekends  and  bringing 
classes  back  and  so  on  were  just  not  possible,  or  at  least 
very  difficult.   There  was  nothing  in  a  certain  sense  for 
the  students  on  the  campus  except  classrooms  and 


laboratories,  which  meant  that  this  was  for  many  of  them  or 
for  most  of  them  a  kind  of  cafeteria,  academic  cafeteria. 
Come  and  nibble  a  sandwich  or  two,  academically  speaking, 
and  go  home.   We  had  no  dormitories;  we  had  no  facilities 
for  foreign  students,  we  had  no  athletic  facilities  of 
consequence;  our  [student]  union  building  was  practically 
next  to--  Kerckhoff  Hall  was  just  a  tiny  little  place  and  so 

We  have  made  a  major  effort  to  build  the  kind  of 
facilities  and  then  the  program  to  give  some  real  sense  of 
identity  and  vitality  on  the  campus  to  what  is  still  a 
fairly  larger  number  of  commuters  and  will  always  be,  but 
now  with  an  added  mixture  of  an  ever  larger  number  of  people 
who  make  their  full  life  here.   This  meant  a  major  union 
building  development,  this  meant  a  massive  dormitory 
program;  this  meant  the  creation  of  our  [Sunset]  Canyon 
Recreation  Center;  this  meant  the  creation  of  a  married 
student  housing  program  of  some  consequence;  this  meant  a 
major  addition  to  our  alumni  facilities.   It  meant  the 
[Edwin  W.]  Pauley  Pavilion,  where  at  least  the  major 
basketball  activity  can  be  carried  out,  and  we  have  a 
program  for  additional  athletic  facilities  on  campus.   A 
track  stadium,  we  built  facilities  for  crew  and  for  other 
minor  sports,  so  that  an  ever  larger  number  of  people  can 
find  that  aspect  of  their  activities  serviced  here. 


And  related  to  that  has  been  the  additional  problem  of 
growing  up  under  the  very  big  tree  of  Berkeley,  the  shade  of 
the  tree.   The  conditioned  reflex--and  I,  after  all,  had 
been  in  education  a  good  many  years  before  I  came  out  here-- 
both  in  the  United  States  and  around  the  world,  when  you 
said  the  University  of  California  you  automatically  meant 
Berkeley.   These  were  synonymous  terms.   UCLA  was  beginning 
to  get  some  visibility  around  the  country,  but  not  as  the 
University  of  California  but  as  UCLA,  because  Berkeley  had 
preempted,  out  of  history,  the  title  of  the  University  of 
California,  as  a  practical  matter. 

So  I  said,  "Okay,  let's  not  fight  that  battle.   Let's 
just  give  that  to  Berkeley,  as  it  were,  from  a  de  facto." 
And  I  said,  "From  now  on  out,  everything  around  here  is 
UCLA."   The  first  thing  that  I  did  was  to  tell  the  telephone 
operators  you  didn't  say  University  of  California,  you  said 
UCLA.   I  had  a  lot  of  our  stationery  changed.   I  said  that 
we  will  make  those  four  letters  just  as  visible  and 
indelible  as  MIT  [Massachusetts  Institute  of  Technology] ,  or 
something  of  this  sort.   This  again  went  to  the  point  that 
in  order  to  get  the  kind  of  loyalty  and  the  kind  of 
commitment,  the  old  school-tie  commitment,  you  had  to  have 
something  visible  and  something  specific  and  precise,  and 
the  concept  of  the  University  of  California  was  simply  much 
too  fuzzy  for  this  particular  point  of  view,  especially 


since,  as  I  say,  Berkeley  had  in  fact  over  nearly  a  hundred 
years  preempted  that,  in  any  event. 

This  again  I  made  quite  clear  to  the  regents  and  Kerr 
and  others  when  I  told  them  frankly  that  this  was  going  to 
be  my  position  and  was,  in  my  view,  not  going  to  do  violence 
to  the  long-range  development  of  what  is  not  a  university 
any  longer  but  a  system  of  higher  education.   It  was  going 
to  add  strength  ultimately,  because  as  I  was  able  to 
strengthen  UCLA,  I  would  add  more  strength  to  the  regents  as 
they  needed  to  face  the  legislature  and  the  people  of 
California  down  the  road.   Because,  after  all,  if  I  am 
successful  or  Dan  [Daniel  G.]  Aldrich  [Jr.]  is  successful  or 
John  Galbraith  is  successful  in  building  the  sense  of  real 
local  identity  and  support,  it  will  be  not  because  somebody 
in  San  Diego  is  really  interested  in  what  happens  with  the 
Berkeley-Stanford  football  game  except  if  by  accident  he  is 
an  alumnus  of  either  Berkeley  or  Stanford,  it  will  be  out  of 
a  sense  of  pride  as  to  what  happens  at  San  Diego,  you  see. 
You  build  up  this  foci  of  strength  around  the  state  related 
to  the  local  institution,  and  in  sum  total  then,  as  long  as 
the  university  is  unified  through  one  board  of  regents,  you 
then  make  a  very  considerable  contribution  to  the  total 
strength  of  the  system. 

STADT^4AN:   Can  you  count  on  the  people  in  this  vicinity 
carrying  over  their  loyalty  to  the  entire  system  when  the 


chips  are  down? 

MURPHY:   Well,  they  have  to,  because  the  only  way  they  can 
support  UCLA  through  the  unified  regents'  budget  is  to 
support  the  regents'  budget.   You  see,  that  is  the  key. 
Now,  if  you  had  nine  separate  universities,  each  of  them 
with  a  separate  board,  each  of  them  with  their  own  route  to 
the  legislature,  you  would  have  chaos,  then  you  would  be  in 
a  dog-eat-dog  position,  and  this  would  not--  Look  at  the 
strength  of  the  university  through  the  whole  Berkeley  FSM 
[Free  Speech  movement]  difficulty.   Our  ability  to  keep  the 
legislature  from  chopping  much  further  away  then  they  did  in 
terms  of  teaching  assistants  and  in  terms  of  out-of-state 
waivers  and  things  of  this  sort,  when  a  lot  of  those  fellows 
up  there  as  a  result  of  Berkeley  and  the  FSM  wanted  to  get 
rid  of  it  completely,  was  because  Emil  [M.]  Mrak  and  I  and 
John  Galbraith  could  go  to  the  legislature  and  say,  "God, 
you  can't  do  that  because  we  have  a  unified  system;  if  you 
do  what  you  are  talking  about  doing  you  will  do  violence  to 
us."   And  the  fact  that  we  were  able  to  throw  our  shoulders 
to  the  wheel  when  Berkeley  was  practically  a  word,  two  years 
ago,  that  you  couldn't  dare  mention  in  the  legislature 
actually  saved  a  lot  of  things  that  Berkeley  would  have 
inevitably  lost.   The  key  to  it  is,  of  course,  the  retention 
of  a  unified  system  at  the  policy-  budget-making  level.   And 
my  position  on  this  is  perfectly  clear:   I  am  strongly 


opposed  to  any  notion  of  decentralizing  that.   Well,  so  much 
for  that. 

So  that  has  been  a  major  issue,  how  to  get  a  sense  of 
identity,  how  to  get  these  people  prideful  of  being  a  part 
of  UCLA  and  building  its  visibility  and  strength  and  not 
having  them  saying,  "Gee" --you  know,  subconsciously-- "it  is 
good  to  be  in  chemistry  here,  but  nationwide  I  would  have 
much  more  distinction  if  I  were  in  chemistry  at  Berkeley. " 
Make  UCLA  mean  just  as  much  as  the  University  of  California, 
which,  as  I  say,  in  the  scholarly  field  still  means 
primarily  Berkeley. 

I  think,  finally,  my  most  important  challenge  has  been 
to  build  an  administrative  organization  here  that  matches 
the  much  increased  responsibilities  that  we  have  as  a  result 
of  decentralization.   The  regents  generally,  and  the  state 
of  California  legislatively,  have  been  very  slow  to  come  to 
the  recognition  that  competent  administration  is  essential 
in  a  university  in  the  modern  world,  and  I  must  say  that  the 
faculty  has  been  equally  bad  on  this.   They  still  have  the 
old  romantic  notion,  many  of  them,  the  faculty,  that  you  can 
run  a  modern  university  like  you  can  a  medieval  university, 
which  was  run  by  a  bunch  of  senate  committees  with  lots  of 
authority  and  no  responsibility,  as  far  as  the  public  is 
concerned.   The  University  of  California  has  always  looked 
down  on  administrators,  basically.   You  can  see  this  in 


salary  scales,  you  can  see  it  in  authority,  you  can  see  it 
in  the  whole  range  of  activities.   I  have  had  a  dual  job 
here:  at  the  one  level,  at  the  regents  and  the  statewide 
administration  level,  fighting  for  the  kinds  of  money  and 
salary  scales  to  permit  me  to  recruit  first-rate 
administrative  people;  with  the  senate,  on  the  other  hand, 
getting  them  to  recognize  the  visibility  and  authority  of 
these  administrators  in  order  to  make  this  thing  work.   And 
I  must  say  that  with  the  two  appointments  made  this  last 
year,  we  have  about  filled  out  our  complement.   I  feel  very 
comfortable  about  the  way  this  has  developed. 

However,  this  leads  to  question  number  seven:  "Which 
ones  of  these  issues  remain  unsurmounted?"   I  still  think 
that  we  have  a  way  to  go  at  the  administrative  level.   We 
still  have  not  yet  achieved  the  administrative 
sophistication  to  match  both  the  administrative  need,  on  the 
one  hand,  and  to  match  the  quality  of  the  faculty  on  the 
other.   Secondly,  I  think  that  we  still  have  a  way  to  go  in 
terms  of  getting  final  equity  with  the  Berkeley  campus. 
Again,  these  are  arithmetical  facts  and  figures.   We  still 
haven't  quite  achieved  the  library  parity  that  has  been 
promised.   We  still  have  not  achieved  by  any  means  the 
parity  in  organized  research  resources  on  the  two  campuses. 
But  I  must  say  that  enormous  progress  has  been  made  in  the 
last  two  or  three  years  in  this  regard,  and  especially  do  I 


think  that  it  will  be  made  in  the  next  two  years. 
STADT^4AN:   But  isn't  this,  as  you  alluded  yourself  a  few 
minutes  ago,  pretty  much  a  question  of  history  as  much  as 
anything  else? 

MURPHY:   Oh,  yes,  I  think  it  is  history  that  created  it. 
STADTMAN:   Just  the  fact  that  UCLA  has  already  done  in  its 
lifetime  most  of  the  things  in  a  much  shorter  period  of 

MURPHY:   The  problem  is  this,  though,  now,  and  it  is  a  very 
complicated  problem.   The  regents  and  the  statewide 
administration  and  the  legislature  and  the  [California 
State]  Department  of  Finance  now  refer  to  UCLA  and  Berkeley 
as  mature  campuses,  and  they  are  therefore  treated  exactly 
the  same,  presumably.   They  speak  of  [University  of 
California]  Santa  Cruz  and  [University  of  California] 
Irvine,  for  example,  as  new  campuses;  they  get--and  I  agree 
to  this--special  treatment  in  terms  of  percentage  of  tenure 
faculty,  and  so  on.   Then  [University  of  California]  Davis, 
Santa  Barbara,  Riverside  are  referred  to  as  developing 
campuses.   They  get  special  treatment,  not  as  special  as 
Santa  Cruz  and  Irvine,  but  better  treatment--these  are  per 
capita  kind  of  calculations--than  Berkeley  and  UCLA.   Now,  I 
agree  with  this  in  principle,  I  agree  in  that  in  terms  of 
the  stage  of  your  development,  you  need  different  kinds  of 
resources  and  different  amounts.   So  I  have  no  objections  to 


this  system,  but  it  will  work  only  as  far  as  UCLA  is 

concerned,  if  we  are  to  be  grouped  with  Berkeley  as  the  two 

mature  campuses,  that  we  are  as  mature  as  Berkeley  in  terms 

of  resources.   If  we  are  not  as  mature  as  Berkeley,  then  we 

are  not  a  mature  campus. 

STADTMAN:   I  see. 

MURPHY:   It  is  that  simple. 

STADTMAN:   What  you  are  actually  saying — 

MURPHY:   I  said,  "I  don't  want  any  more.  I  just  want  the 

resources  to  match  what  you  say  is  our  responsibility,  and 

then  it  is  up  to  us  to  perform.   But  you  can't  ask  us  to 

perform  at  a  level  that  you  have  arbitrarily  set  with  less 

than  the  resources  of  someone  else  that  is  at  that  level. 

That  is  all."   Now  a  lot  of  progress  has  been  made,  and  I 

think  in  a  year  or  two  this  will  be  the  end  of  the  history, 

but  it  has  taken  an  awful  lot  of  my  time  and  energy  and 

emotion  and  pain  and  travail,  and  I  don't  want  to  ever  have 

to  go  through  it  again. 

STADTMAN:   Well,  this  is  one  of  your  unfinished  jobs,  but 

isn't  it  also  probably  fair  to  say  that  this  is  one  of  your 

greatest  achievements? 

MURPHY:   Yes,  I  would  think  so.   Even  so,  I  would  hate  to 

have  to  do  it  again.   I  would  like  to  run  a  university 

rather  than,  you  know-- 

Finally,  we  still  have  a  way  to  go  in  terms  of  this 


UCLA  identification.   We  have  special  problems  because  we 
are  an  urban  campus,  and  therefore  the  job  is  a  little 
tougher  than  if  you  were  isolated  out  in  the  country  or  if 
you  had  had  a  hundred  years  to  do  it  in  a  different  period 
of  history.   But  we  have  made  enormous  strides  here  in  terms 
of  programs  and  in  terms  of  physical  facilities  to  make  the 
programs  work,  and  I  see  the  end  of  that  rainbow  in  terms  of 
feasibility  in  sight.   Now,  do  you  believe  that  UCLA  can 
achieve  scholarly  distinction  in  worldwide  terms  when  it 
depends  so  much  on  regional  support?   Well,  actually,  UCLA 
is  not  a  regional  institution.   The  bulk  of  our  graduate 
students  are,  of  course,  non-Californians,  and  we  are 
rapidly  becoming  a  graduate  school .   Our  centers  for 
African,  Middle  Eastern,  and  Latin  American  studies  are 
among  the  most  distinguished  of  their  kind  in  the  United 
States.   These  are  three  of  the  peaks  that  we  have  been  able 
to  build. 

Now,  we  do  depend--  The  only  regional  support  we  look 
for,  and  that  is  why  perhaps  we  need  to  define  that  term-- 
We  of  course  get  the  major  part  of  our  support  from  the 
whole  state  of  California  through  the  legislature.   We  get 
an  enormous  amount  of  support,  the  bulk  of  our  research 
budget,  from  the  federal  government,  which  is,  of  course, 
not  regional .   So  the  only  kind  of  support  that  we  can  talk 
about  in  terms  of  regionality  is  the  private  support  we  get 


in  dollars  at  least. 
STADTMAN:   And  moral  support. 

MURPHY:   And  moral  support.   And  here  I  think  that  we  are  in 
an  unusually  advantageous  position.   This  goes  back  to  our 
getting  UCLA  identified  with  the  community.   If  you  will 
have  somebody  pull  out  the  records  over  the  last  five  years 
in  terms  of  private  support,  the  last  five  years  of  private 
support,  I  think  you  will  find  that  this  campus  has  led  all 
the  other  campuses  of  the  university,  including  Berkeley, 
every  year.   And  it  has  all  come  practically  locally.   There 
is  an  enormous  financial  resource  untapped  in  Southern 
California,  private,  which  we  are  now  beginning  to  tap.   And 
I  see  in  this  one  of  the  great  advantages  and  one  of  the 
great  pluses  that  will  permit  us  in  a  much  shorter  period  of 
time  to  build  up  our  endowment  resources  to  a  level  that  at 
least  can  begin  to  approach  Berkeley. 

STADTMAN:   Something  here  that  I  think  is  pretty  important: 
You  have  done  this  despite  the  fact  that  you  are  in  the  most 
sensitive  area  of  the  state  vis-a-vis  private  institutions 
and  their  feeling  of  prior  claims  on  private  giving.   Has 
there  been  any  howl? 

MURPHY:   There  have  been  a  few  squeaks  of  pain  but  they 
haven't  been  howls,  and  I  think  that  is  for  two  or  three 
reasons.   First  of  all,  I  have  offered  my  services,  and  they 
have  been  used  by  private  institutions  to  help  them  raise 


money.   I  have  made  speeches  for  USC.   I  have  gone  down  to 
the  [Los  Angeles]  City  Council  and  have  fought  as  hard  as 
Norman  [H.]  Topping  for  the  urban  renewal  project  that  USC 
had  to  have  if  it  were  to  develop.   I  have  helped  raise 
money  in  a  period  of  fund-raising  drives  for  the  Claremont 
[Colleges]  group  and  also  other  private  institutions. 
Occidental  [College]  for  one.   Now,  secondly,  our  private 
fund-raising  has  been  on  an  annual  basis,  nonrestricted  type 
of  funds.   We  have  been  confident  on  its  being  limited  to 
alumni,  but  here  the  very  regionality  of  our  undergraduate 
student  body  is  a  help,  because  the  bulk  of  our  alumni  live 
in  Southern  California  and  we  are  visible  to  them  and  we  are 
close  to  them. 

Thirdly,  I  have  a  clear  understanding  with  the  heads  of 
the  private  institutions  that  in  terms  of  ad  hoc  projects 
like  the  Jules  Stein  Eye  Institute  or  like  the  sculpture 
court  in  the  north  campus  we  have  just  completed,  or  like 
somebody  deeply  interested  in  cancer  or  rare  books  or  art, 
if  they  are  interested  in  UCLA  then  this  is  not  regarded  as 
a  competition,  because  very  often--  You  take  the  Jules  Stein 
Eye  Institute:   The  issue  here  was,  in  terms  of  Jules ' s  own 
position,  would  it  come  to  UCLA  or  would  it  go  to  the 
University  of  Chicago?   It  was  not  a  competition  locally. 
The  question  of  this  sculpture  basically  was  whether  it 
would  come  here  or  be  sold  as  part  of  an  estate.   There  was 


never  any  question  of  whether  it  would  go  to  Occidental  or 
this  or  that.   There  are  people  in  this  community  who  know 
of  our  interest  in  building  our  library  collection, 
especially  the  rare  book  collections.   This  is  not  a 
competition  with  Occidental,  because  they  are  not  interested 
in  the  rare  book  program;  Caltech  [California  Institute  of 
Technology]  is  not  in  the  rare  book  program.   Our 
competition  here  is  like  Stanford  or  Berkeley,  or  in  one 
case  recently,  Lehigh  University.   In  this  case,  ' SC  was  not 
in  the  picture. 

Now,  I  am  not  going  to  say  that  there  hasn't  been  a 
sense  of  friction  any  more  than  I  am  going  to  say  that  there 
isn't  a  sense  of  friction  in  the  Bay  Area  sometimes  between 
Stanford  and  Berkeley.   This  is  very  ancient;  this  goes  back 
a  long  way.   I  am  saying  that  there  have  not  been  howls, 
that  we  have  managed  to  do  this.   One  thing  that  I  think  has 
prevented  it--at  least  it  has  kept  the  howls  down  to  a  low 
grumble--has  been  our  insistence  that  we  would  not  engage  in 
any  annual  fund-raising  to  the  general  community  for  nickels 
and  dimes  or  hundreds  of  dollars  or  thousands  of  dollars  or 
five  thousand  dollars.   So  we  really  either  stay  with  the 
alumni  on  that  basis,  as  they  fully  respect  our  rights  to 
that,  or  the  occasional  multimillion  dollar  ad  hoc  project 
would  come  either  here  or  go  some  place  else  other  than  a 
private  institution. 


Now,  finally,  let  me  say  when  you  talk  about  regional 
support--  I  have  talked  about  the  private  regional  support, 
and  it  is  enormous,  and  as  I  say,  I  think  we  have  just 
barely  begun  to  tap  it.   I  see  literally  tens  of  millions  of 
dollars  in  the  near  future  in  all  kinds  of  interesting 
projects  relating  to  distinction.   But  beyond  that,  this  is 
not  a  regional  university.   We  have  the  third  largest  number 
of  foreign  students  in  any  university  of  the  United  States; 
only  Berkeley  and  Columbia  [University]  have  more.   As  I 
say,  the  bulk  of  our  graduate  students--and  we  are  becoming 
a  graduate  institution--are  all  non-Californians,  the 
majority.   This  is  a  highly  international  school.   But  like 
Columbia  it  is  urban,  or  the  University  of  Chicago.   It  is 
in  the  city.   The  University  of  Chicago  gets  the  bulk  of  its 
money  from  Chicago  actually,  yet  it  is  thought  of  as  an 
international  university. 

All  right,  sir,  should  we  go  to  the  next?   "Does  UCLA-- 
you  or  the  faculty- -regard  the  new  campuses  at  San  Diego  and 
Irvine  as  competition  for  support?"   No.   Not  at  all.   As  a 
matter  of  fact--and  I  hope  that  you  would  talk  to  them--you 
will  find  that  we  made  a  conscious  decision  around  here,  and 
it  wasn't  difficult  to  achieve,  that  we  would  do  to  Irvine 
or  to  San  Diego  or  Santa  Barbara  or  Riverside  the  kind  of 
thing  that  we  felt  Berkeley  over  a  time  had  tried  early  to 
do  to  UCLA  (that  is  a  matter  of  fact):  we  would  hold  out  the 


hand  of  real  support. 

Now,  the  first  symptom  of  that,  when  I  arrived  here, 
the  university  [Academic]  Senate  existed  as  the  senate  north 
and  the  senate  south.   The  senate  north  was  run  by  Berkeley. 
The  meetings  were  held  there  and  it  was  a  Berkeley  senate. 
The  senate  south  was  actually  run  by  UCLA. 

You  know,  these  fellows  had  to  come  to  the  meetings, 
and  they  couldn't  come  or  wouldn't  come.   So  you  would  have 
a  meeting  of  the  senate,  and  there  would  maybe  be  one  or  two 
or  maybe  none  from  some  of  these  smaller  campuses,  and 
mainly  UCLA  guys  all  making  decisions,  sometimes,  about  what 
San  Diego  wanted  to  do  or  what  Santa  Barbara  wanted  to  do. 
And  I  declared  that  this  was  outrageous.   This  was  a  part, 
again,  of  my  principle  of  decentralization.   With  a  broadly 
based  university  policy,  it  was  not  our  business  to  be 
telling  San  Diego  what  they  wanted  to  do.   I  was  one  of  the 
first  fighters  for  the  decentralization  of  the  senate  and 
got  our  people  in  the  senate,  our  faculty,  to  raise  the 
issue  and  begin  the  battle  to  decentralize  the  senate  so 
Davis  would  have  its  own  senate  and  it  didn't  have  to  go  to 
Berkeley  on  hands  and  knees  and  say,  "Please,  we  would  like 
to  start  a  program  in  this,  that,  and  the  other  thing."   And 
the  same  with  San  Diego. 

STADTMAN:   Was  this  part  of  the  problem  you  mentioned 
earlier  when  you  said  people  had  advised  you  to  be  between 


the  senate  and  the  faculty--? 

MURPHY:   The  faculty  on  the  one  hand  and  the  statewide 
administration  on  the  other. 

STADTMAN:   In  that  case,  your  feeling  apparently  was  that 
the  faculty  that  you  had  to  contend  with  was  not  really  the 
UCLA  faculty  but  this  other. 

MURPHY:   Right,  exactly.   And  even  the  Berkeley  faculty.   I 
didn't  want  the  Berkeley  faculty,  through  the  senate 
mechanism,  to  veto--  In  those  days  the  basic  thing  was  that 
the  southern  division  would  take  a  position,  the  northern 
division  would  take  a  position,  and  then  they  would  get 
together  and  decide  on  a  unified  basis  what  they  could-- 
They  couldn't  initiate  something  for  UCLA;  they  would  block 
it.   It  was  like  the  Russian  veto.   I  said  that  that  was 
none  of  their  business.   It  is  this  faculty's  business.   I 
felt  that  I  could  deal  with  this  faculty,  but  I  felt  that  I 
couldn't  deal  with  nine  faculties.   And  I  think  the  record 
is  clear,  we  are  able  to,  basically,  deal  with  the  faculty. 

But  my  point  is  that--back  to  Irvine  and  the  other 
southern  campuses--we  do  not  regard  them  as  competitors  for 
support.   I  have  long  believed  that  we  have  got  to  have  a 
system,  and  I  supported  Clark  Kerr  in  his  expansion  program 
all  the  way,  without  reservations.   I  think  it  is  his  great 
contribution  as  president.   I  will  say  however,  frankly, 
that  we  have  felt  not  the  financial  competition,  support 


competition,  but  in  terms  of  recruitment  of  our  faculty  we 
have  suffered  a  great  pain.   And  here  we  had  to  be  very 
disciplined,  because  actually--  It  is  kind  of  ironic.   In 
terms  of  trying  to  keep  our  faculty  from  raids,  we  have  far 
greater  success  against  Harvard,  University  of  Chicago,  and 
Yale  than  we  do  against  Irvine,  Santa  Barbara,  and  San 
Diego.   They  have  done  more  violence  to  us  in  terms  of 
taking  away  faculty  than  out-of-state  institutions.   So  in 
this  area  we  do  have  a  degree  of  sensitivity.   By  God,  we 
have  provided,  what,  three  chancellors,  [Dean  E.]  McHenry, 
Galbraith,  [Ivan  H.]  Hinderaker;  we  have  provided  deans  for 
Page  Smith  at  Santa  Cruz;  etc.,  etc.   And  I  think  the  record 
is  clear  that  UCLA  has  provided  a  great  deal  more  to  these 
southern  campuses  in  terms  of  manpower  than  Berkeley  by  a 
great  deal.   You  can  get  these  figures  from  Angus  [E.] 
Taylor.   But  nonetheless  we  bite  our  lip  and  go  forward.   We 
don't  feel  competitive  with  them  and  we  have  tried  to  help 
in  all  possible  ways. 

"Do  we  feel  any  pressure  from  state  college 
competition?"   No. 

"Has  UCLA  overcome  its  little  brother  feelings  toward 
Berkeley?"   I  think  I  have  discussed  this. 

"Does  the  existence  of  so  many  private  institutions  in 
the  southern  part  of  the  state  affect  UCLA?"   Not  really. 
This  is  the  only  part,  at  least  at  the  moment,  that  I  can 


think  of  that  I  would  want  to  go  off  the  record.   Well,  let 
me  stay  on  the  record  for  a  minute.   I  think  healthy 
competition  among  educational  institutions  is  good.   I  think 
it  spurs  and  stimulates.   I  think,  for  example  in  the  Bay 
Area,  it  is  a  wonderful  thing  that  Stanford  and  Berkeley  are 
first-rate  institutions.   There  is  a  mutual  stimulation, 
like  a  Harvard-Yale  competition.   Therefore,  I  am  delighted 
that  we  have  Caltech,  I  am  delighted  that  we  have  the 
Claremont  group,  which  is  a  very  distinguished  group  of 
mainly  liberal  arts,  and  Occidental. 

Our  big  problem  has  been  USC.   Here  I  go  off  the 
record.   All  I  say  is,  I  don't  mind  this  being  on  the  tape, 
I  don't  want  it  written  up  in  this  way.   Our  big  problem  is 
that  USC  is  the  oldest  and  quantitatively  the  largest 
private  institution  in  Southern  California  and  until  very 
recently  has  been  qualitatively  the  worst.   The  result  of 
this  has  been  that  they  have  watched  UCLA  grow  qualitatively 
and  quantitatively  and  their  whole  reaction  has  been  one  of 
envy.   The  insecure  man  looking  at  something  overtaking  him 
and  passing  him.   Their  attitudes,  therefore,  have  been  dog 
in  the  manger,  negative  and  destructive  rather  than 
constructive.   This  is  slowly  changing,  and  I  give  Norman 
Topping  the  greatest  credit  for  this.   Norman  has  done  an 
incredible  job  in  raising  the  standards  at  USC.   They  still 
have  a  way  to  go,  but  really,  in  a  certain  way  he  has  done  a 


more  remarkable  job  than  Welly  [J.E.  Wallace]  Sterling  has 
done  at  Stanford.   Wally  has  done  a  tremendous  job,  but  he 
started  at  a  much  higher  level.   He  [Topping]  has  raised  the 
aspirations  of  those  people,  he  has  raised  the  aspirations 
of  the  board,  and  he  has  raised  enormous  amounts  of  money. 
He  is  beginning  now  to  acguire  some  first-rate  scholars. 
And  when  USC  reaches  a  level  of  quality,  a  qualitative  level 
that  begins  to  make  it  intellectually  speaking  in  the  league 
of  Stanford  and  Berkeley  and  UCLA,  this  will  be  a  great  day 
for  us.   Because  then  there  will  be  competition,  but  the 
competition  will  be  onward  and  up  rather  than  "Let's  do 
something  to  UCLA  to  slow  down  its  growth  because  it  is 
getting  too  far  beyond  us."   But  in  principle  I  welcome  an 
ever  stronger  and  ever  more  qualitative  effort  in  private 
higher  education  in  Southern  California. 

"For  many  years  UCLA  benefited  from  having  a  southern 
bloc  of  regents;  does  it  have  such  a  bloc  now?"   I  don't 
think  so.   I  find  it  rather  fascinating  that  at  regents 
meetings  you  find  Bill  Forbes,  Ed  Carter,  and  others  showing 
as  much  interest  as  to  what  is  happening  in  Irvine  or  Santa 
Cruz  or  Davis  as  they  will  at  UCLA.   As  a  matter  of  fact,  I 
have  even  sometimes  complained  a  little,  saying,  "Listen, 
guys,  don't  forget  your  back  door."   I  also  want  to  point 
out  that  when  you  talk  about  the  southern  bloc  you  are 
talking  about  regents  whose  interests  and  attitudes  are 


ranged  all  the  way  from,  if  I  can  use  the  phrase,  liberalism 
to  the  unpredictability  of  Norton  Simon  to  the  attitude  of 
an  Ed  Pauley,  who  has  a  somewhat  more  traditional  approach 
and  has  a  somewhat  more  conservative  approach,  you  might 
say.   So  that  I  think  the  regents  really  do  not  break  down 
today  in  geographical  blocs  as  much  as  they  do  in 
philosophical  blocs,  and  I  don't  think  any  institution 
either  benefits  or  is  disadvantaged  by  that  kind  of  a 

STADT^4AN:   In  your  earlier  remarks  you  said  that  the 
development  of  this  bloc  is  a  conscious  kind  of  thing  and  it 
helped  UCLA  at  one  point. 

MURPHY:   I  think  you  have  to  go  back  before  I  came,  even,  for 
that.   I  think  there  is  no  doubt  about  the  fact  that  some  of 
the  alumni  regents  in  earlier  times,  utilizing  both  the 
alumni  association  and  their  positions  on  the  board,  were 
fighting  very,  very  hard  proprietary  battles  in  the  board  on 
behalf  of  UCLA.   But  this  I  think  is  no  longer  true. 

"What  is  the  significance  for  the  support  of  UCLA  of 
the  fact  that  two  appointed  regents  are  former  presidents 
of  the  UCLA  Alumni  Association?   Have  you  found  this 
circumstance  particularly  helpful?"   No.   Not  particularly. 
For  example.  Bill  Forbes,  who  is  one  of  these,  had 
daughters  who  went  to  Santa  Barbara  and  to  Berkeley,  and  I 
think  he  had  more  to  say  in  the  regents  meetings  about  Santa 


Barbara  and  Berkeley  than  he  had  UCLA.   John  Canaday  and  I-- 
and  this  is  on  the  record- -have  had  some  very  sharp 
differences  about  the  handling  of  students  at  UCLA.   He  is  a 
close  friend  of  mine,  but  I  am  also  a  close  friend  of  Ellie 
[Elinor  R. ]  Heller,  and  Donald  [H.]  McLaughlin  was  a  close 
friend  of  mine.   I  don't  think  that  I  can  point  to  a  single 
thing  on  this  campus  that  is  here  because  some  regents  put 
some  unusual  pressure  on  behalf  of  UCLA  beyond  what  a  regent 
who  might  know  a  little  more  about  UCLA  understood  to  be  a 
simple  equity.   In  other  words,  it  was  well  known  that 
Donald  McLaughlin  as  a  regent  had  a  special  interest  in 
Berkeley,  but  that  special  interest  in  Berkeley  in  my 
opinion  never  did  violence  to  UCLA.   Donald  was  very  fair 
about  that . 

STADTMAN:   Of  course,  Dickson-- 

MURPHY:   Now,  this  is  before.   Oh,  before  my  time,  there 
isn't  any  question  about  the  fact  that  even  survival,  to  say 
nothing  about  growth  and  professional  schools  establishment, 
depended  critically  upon  Edward  Dickson  fighting  the  UCLA 
battle.   I  mean  just  fighting  it  like  Sir  Galahad,  aided  and 
supported  by  the  alumni  presidents.   I  am  saying  that  in  the 
last  seven  years  since  I  have  been  here,  I  have  seen  very 
little  of  that,  and  I  don't  think  you  will  see  much  of  it. 
I  don't  think  it  is  necessary  anymore. 
STADTMAN:   This  in  a  way  takes  care  of  this,  but  there  is 


the  question  of  the  historian  that  someone  writing  a  history 
does  keep  in  mind.   That  is,  do  the  Southern  California 
regents  ever  get  together,  ever  huddle  together,  this  kind 
of  thing,  to  your  knowledge? 

MURPHY:   No.   Especially  in  the  last  five  years.   There  used 
to  be  the  tradition  of  people  going  to  the  regents  meetings-- 
You  see,  now  they  are  all  over  the  place,  but  when  they  were 
between  L.A.  and  Berkeley,  most  of  the  Southern  California 
regents  used  to  go  to  the  northern  meetings  on  Ed  Pauley's 
airplane,  and  they  had  the  inadvertent  opportunity  to 
huddle.   But  I  don't  see  any  huddles  at  all.   For  example,  I 
see  Norton  Simon,  who  is  a  southern  regent,  participating  in 
discussions  in  the  hall  way  more  with  Ellie  Heller  and  with 
Bill  [William  K.]  Coblentz  than  I  see  him  talk  to  John 
Canaday,  and  so  on.   I  don't  think  this  geographic  thing 
is--  If  you  want  to  talk  about  the  regents  being  somewhat 
divided  today  in  camps,  I  don't  think  the  geographic  thing 
holds  up  anymore.   I  think  it  is  accidental. 
STADTMAN:   Do  you  think  it  is  a  political  thing? 
MURPHY:   I  think  it  is  more  philosophical.   I  would  even  go 
beyond  politics  and  I  would  say  that  it  is  more 
philosophical.   What  a  university  is.   Freedom  for  students. 
Rights  of  faculty.   This  kind  of  thing. 

"Do  you  tend  to  confer  more  with  regents  in  Southern 
California  than  with  those  in  Northern  California?"   The 


answer  is  yes,  and  the  main  reason  is  because  I  see  them  so 
often  in  contexts  other  than  the  university.   I  am  on 
several  boards  with  Ed  Carter,  I  am  on  several  boards  with 
Norton  Simon,  I  am  on  several  boards  with  Buff  [Dorothy 
Buffum]  Chandler.   I  see  them  very  frequently  socially  and 
professionally  outside  the  university,  and  inevitably 
university  matters  come  up.   I  never  call  a  meeting  of  the 
southern  regents  or  anything  like  that. 
STADT^4AN:   Right. 

MURPHY:   "How  do  you  account  for  the  fact  that  in  the 
thirties  UCLA  was  considered  to  have  a  more  radical  student 
body  than  Berkeley  and  that  in  1967  the  situation  is 

STADTMAN:   This  is  a  little  unfair,  for  you  weren't  here  in 
the  thirties. 

MURPHY:   Well,  yeah.   I  have  heard  a  lot  about  it.   "Little 
red  schoolhouse"  comments,  and  so  on.   Let  me  say  that  I 
think--I  am  here  kind  of  reaching,  you  know--in  the  1930s 
UCLA  was  a  kind  of  rootless  institution.   It  didn't  have  any 
of  the  traditions  of  Stanford  or  Berkeley  or  Harvard  or 
Princeton.   It  was  much  more  like  CCNY  [City  College  of  the 
City  University  of  New  York],  just  a  kind  of  completely 
commuter-based  academic  cafeteria,  a  low-cost  place  where 
bright  people  could  come  who  couldn't  go  elsewhere  for 
financial  or  other  reasons.   Therefore,  there  was  very 


little,  in  a  certain  sense,  to  build  morale,  to  get  a  kind 
of  sense  of  unity  or  spirit.   There  wasn't  even  the  outlet 
for  athletics,  which  is  an  outlet  for  energy  and  enthusiasm, 
commitment.   And  I  think  that--plus,  of  course,  the  external 
stimuli  of  the  Great  Depression  and  so  on,  flirting  with 
communism,  etc. --these  two  factors  made  UCLA  much  like  CCNY. 

I  think  the  situation  to  a  certain  extent  is  reversed 
now,  was  even  in  1957.   We  had  convinced  the  student  body 
here  and  the  faculty  that  we  had  a  chance--  You  know,  my 
speeches  in  those  days  [were] ,  and  still  are,  those  of  a 
great  university  in  the  Western  tradition:   you  can  achieve 
the  Berkeley,  Stanford,  Harvard,  Princeton  level  if  you  want 
to  and  let's  get  with  it  and  you  are  a  long  way  there. 
These  kinds  of  positive,  sort  of  morale,  psychological 
building  things  I  think  played  some  role.   And  evidence  of 
that  fact  that  something  was  happening:   a  great  building 
program  and  so  on.   Whereas  Berkeley  had  become  kind  of 
static,  and  what  was  the  thrust--?  I  mean,  athletics  was 
going  down.   Berkeley  had  achieved  a  plateau,  albeit  a  very 
distinguished  one.   But  what  was  the  elan  in  Berkeley  to 
which  students  and  large  numbers  in  Berkeley  could  cling 
subconsciously?   I  don't  think  there  was  much  there.   We  had 
this  elan.   You  can  call  it  beat  Berkeley,  beat  Michigan, 
beat  Harvard,  etc. 

This,  however,  does  lead  to  numbers  seventeen  and 


eighteen.   "How  did  UCLA  avoid  being  swept  into  a  more 
activist  response  from  students  during  the  FSM?"   I  think 
there  are  two  or  three  reasons  for  this.   I  have  my  own 
belief  of  what  happened  in  Berkeley  and  some  of  the  reasons 
that  led  to  the  difficulty.   I  think  a  lot  of  those 
conditions  didn't  prevail  here.   I  think  we  had  a  much  more 
sensitive  staff  in  the  dean  of  students  office  and  all  of 
the  subdeans  of  students.   They  are  in  constant- -were  and 
are--in  constant  dialogue  with  student  leadership  at  every 
level.   I  think  my  office,  not  only  myself  but  my  own 
immediate  staff,  have  understood  from  the  day  that  I  arrived 
here  that  we  were  going  to  talk  to  students,  and  we  have,  in 
large  numbers. 

Now,  from  the  beginning,  even  before  FSM,  we  drew 
students,  not  into  the  decision-making  process,  but  the 
dialogue  leading  up  to  the  decision  making.   As  you  know, 
once  a  year--I  established  this  when  I  first  came--I  take 
key  members  of  the  faculty,  administration,  and  students  to 
Lake  Arrowhead  for  a  weekend  and  we  have  an  agenda  which 
relates  to  some  specific  set  of  problems.   For  example, 
years  ago,  what  do  we  do  with  the  quarter  system?   How  can 
we  take  advantage  of  that  to  make  more  germane  our 
curriculum?   We  had  students  involved  from  the  very 
beginning,  graduate  students  and  undergraduates.   When  we 
set  up  our  ground  rules  on  the  management  of  political 


action,  where  they  could  speak  and  all  of  these  things,  I 
had  the  Graduate  Students  Association  and  Undergraduate 
Students  Association  hold  hearings.   Any  student  for  four 
days  could  go  and  express  his  views,  and  then  a  committee  of 
those  two  student  associations  could  put  together  a  summary 
of  the  hearings.   They  analyzed  them  and  they  made 
recommendations  to  me  and  I  discussed  them  with  the  faculty, 
and  in  the  final  drafting  three  students  were  involved  along 
with  three  faculty  and  three  administrators.   I,  of  course, 
made  the  final  approval .   So  we  have  had  students  involved 
in  the  dynamics  pretty  much  from  the  beginning,  and  I  think 
that  may  be  one  of  the  reasons. 

Number  eighteen  I  think  I  have  answered.   "Do  you 
believe  that  the  ties  of  the  student  body  to  the  chancellor 
are  stronger  at  UCLA  than  they  are  at  Berkeley?   If  so,  how 
did  they  get  that  way?"   I  don't  know  about  now,  because  I 
think  Chancellor  Heyns  has  done  an  absolutely  superb  job.   I 
think  that  the  record  is  going  to  show  that  he  has  done  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  educational  jobs  in  the  country  when 
he  is  finally  finished  at  Berkeley.   So  I  suppose  they  are 
fairly  close  now,  I  would  hope  so.   I  do  think,  however, 
that  students  have  been  closer  to  our  entire  administrative 
apparatus  here,  from  this  office  all  the  way  down,  than  they 
were  at  Berkeley  prior  to  the  time  that  Roger  came. 

"You  were  out  of  the  country  when  President  Kerr  was 


dismissed.   Would  your  reaction  to  that  event  have  differed 
from  that  of  the  chancellors  had  you  been  here?"   I  was  not 
out  of  the  country  when  President  Kerr  was  dismissed.   You 
are  thinking  of  a  previous  episode.   I  was  in  SSo  Paulo, 
Brazil,  when  Clark  Kerr,  two  years  ago  I  think  it  was, 
announced  his  intention  to  resign  along  with  Martin 
Meyerson.   I  got  a  phone  call  from  the  Oakland  Tribune, 
which  got  to  me  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  got  me  out 
of  bed,  and  the  Oakland  Tribune  fellow  said,  "President  Kerr 
has  announced  that  he  is  going  to  resign.   What  have  you  got 
to  say  about  it?"   Well,  hell,  I  was  half  asleep  and  the 
connection  all  the  way  from  Berkeley  to  Sao  Paulo,  Brazil, 
was  not  very  good.   It  took  me  twenty  minutes- -it  seemed 
twenty,  perhaps  five--just  to  understand  what  he  was  saying. 
I  didn't  know  what  had  happened.   I  didn't  know  whether  the 
regents  had  fired  him  or  whether  he  had  resigned  or  what,  so 
all  I  said  was  "I  have  no  comment.   I  will  make  a  comment  if 
necessary  when  I  get  back  and  find  out  what  it  is  all 
about .  " 

Well,  all  the  other  chancellors  were  here.   Predictably 
they  commented  immediately,  "It  is  a  tragedy,"  etc.,  etc. 
The  Chronicle  fof  Higher  Education] ,  for  reasons  that  I  will 
never  know--one  for  which  I  will  never  excuse  them--then  did 
a  story  which  I  subsequently  saw  saying,  "President  Kerr 
announces  his  intention  to  resign.   Eight  chancellors  said 


terrible,  don't  do  it;  Chancellor  Murphy  said,  'No 
comment.'"   Well,  when  I  got  back--it  was  a  week  or  two 
weeks  af terward--the  matter  was  already  settled  by  then, 
there  was  no  purpose  in  making  a  comment.   So  I  got  off  to  a 
bad  start  on  that  at  that  time. 

Now,  what  happened  this  time--  This  happened  at  the 
January  meeting  of  the  board  of  regents.   Prior  to  the  fact 
that  Clark  Kerr  had  gone--  Well,  in  December  Clark  Kerr  went 
to  Hong  Kong.   Prior  to  his  going--!  think  it  was  at  the 
December  meeting  of  the  regents,  or  maybe  the  November 
meeting--he  took  me  aside  privately.   He  said,  "Franklin"-- 
it  was  after  the  [gubernatorial]  election  at  least-- "I  think 
I  am  in  deep,  deep  trouble.   What  is  your  opinion?" 

"I  will  have  to  tell  you  that  I  think  you  are  for 
several  reasons,  "  I  said.   "In  the  first  place,  you  know, 
since  June  of  1964,  I  believe,  you  must  have  known  that  a 
minority  but  a  very  substantial  minority  of  the  board  are 
opposed  to  your  continuing  as  president."   And  this  was 
known.   "Frankly,  I  don't  think  there  has  been  any 
remarkable  change  in  the  view  of  at  least  a  significant 
percentage  of  that  minority.   Now, "  I  said,  "there  is  a  new 
governor.   In  his  campaign  he  has  made  it  clear  that  he  has 
been  deeply  critical  of  the  management  of  the  university, 
and  he  and  the  lieutenant  governor--who  has  not  been  very 
vocal  on  this,  but  obviously  there  is  some  party  regularity 


here--will  be  new  members,  and  then  I  think  there  will  be 
two  new  ex  officio  or  one  new  ex  officio."   I  said, 
"Regardless  of  whether  that  becomes  a  large  minority  or  a 
small  majority,  you  have  to  honestly  evaluate  whether  you 
can  do  this  enormously  difficult  job,  which  is  difficult  in 
optimum  circumstances,  knowing  that  half  of  your  board,  more 
or  less,  has  lost  confidence  in  you.   I  think  at  some  point 
you  have  to  get  that  clarified.   I  just  don't  see  how 
anybody,  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  can  run  a  big  complicated 
university  system  with  the  kind  of  heckling  that  you  have 
had  to  put  up  with  from  people  [who]  for  whatever  reasons, 
right  or  wrong,  seem  to  have  lost  confidence  in  you."   I 
said  that  "This  is  a  decision  that  only  you  can  make,  but  I 
think  there  are  other  people,  of  course,  that  you  should 
talk  to:   Harry  [R.]  Wellman,  Charlie  [Charles  J.]  Hitch, 
people  of  this  sort,  who  I  think  are  prepared  to  give  you 
very  objective,  honest  advice  because  they  are  fond  of  you." 

That  was  the  last  I  ever  talked  to  him  on  that  or  on 
any  other  subject,  basically  because  he  went  to  Hong  Kong 
and  then  came  all  this  big  flurry,  you  know,  budgets  and 
this  and  that.   And  there  came  the  January  meeting  of  the 
board,  which  was  in  Berkeley.   I  arrived  at  that  meeting 
with  a  temperature  of  102.   I  was  at  the  COC  [Conference  of 
Chancellors] ,  which  was  a  kind  of  routine  chancellors 
meeting  which  we  hold  the  night  before.   The  next  day, 


this —  Incidentally,  I  had  a  terrible  earache,  and  that  was 
what  started  the  thing  that  put  me  in  the  hospital  last  week 
for  the  operation.   I  got  up  the  next  day,  I  went  to  the 
regents  meetings.   I  had  the  obligation  to  report  to  the 
regents  about  the  most  recent  discussions  in  the  Commission 
on  Constitutional  Revision,  of  which  I  am  a  member,  about 
Section  IX,  Article  9.   I  had  made  my  notes  and  went  through 
the  third  day--  That  was  a  regents-only  meeting,  which  I 
didn't  attend,  needless  to  say. 

By  Friday  morning,  I  was  terribly  ill,  so  I  went  to 
Clark,  who  in  retrospect--  You  know,  Clark  was  always  rather 
cool  and  self-contained,  but  in  retrospect  I  realize  that  he 
was  unusually  cool.   And  I  said,  "Clark,  I  have  to  go  home; 
I  just  can't  take  it  any  more.   My  ear  is  throbbing.   I  have 
an  appointment  with  my  doctor  to  meet  me  at  the  airport  and 
take  me  right  to  the  hospital.   I've  got  a  temperature--" 
That  morning  I  had  a  temperature  of  103.   I  said,  "You  have 
got  to  make  this  report  for  me."   I  briefed  him.   He  didn't 
say  a  thing  to  me.   Not  one  word  except,  "Okay,  Franklin." 

I  put  my  plane  off  to  the  last  possible  minute.   I 
stayed  through  the  morning  meeting  of  the  regents,  and  then 
the  chairman  of  the  board  called  for  a  special  executive 
session  of  the  regents,  regents  only,  and  I  asked  the 
president  to  leave.   We  had  already  planned  a  luncheon  for 
the  chancellors  and  the  president  and  vice  president  to  talk 


about  our  budget  problems  upcoming.   We  all  went  up  to  that 
conference  room  on  the  seventh  floor,  and  my  plane  was 
scheduled  to  go,  I  forget  when,  but  I  had  a  quick  swipe  at  a 
couple  pieces  of  meat  or  something  and  then  I  said,  "I  have 
to  go  and  get  over  to  the  San  Francisco  airport  and  down  to 
the  hospital."   I  went  to  Clark,  shook  his  hand,  and  said 
good-bye,  a  routine.   He  looked  up  at  me,  he  said  good-bye, 
and  I  said,  "I  will  be  staying  in  touch  with  you"  about  some 
problem  with  [Ronald  W.]  Reagan.   (He  had  asked  me  if  I 
could  assist  in  getting  a  dialogue  open  with  Reagan. )   I 
said  that  as  soon  as  I  got  well  I  would  try  and  get  in  touch 
with  [Philip  M.]  Battaglia.   "And  I  will  see  you  then."   And 
he  said  "Okay. " 

I  walked  out,  got  on  the  plane,  came  home  and  was  met 
at  the  airport,  went  to  the  hospital,  where  they  promptly 
took  cultures  and  put  me  on  antibiotics  and  gave  me  stuff  to 
go  home  and  go  to  bed  with.   I  went  promptly  to  sleep- -had 
some  phenoba'rbital,  etc. --and  was  awakened  by  my  wife,  who 
said,  "By  the  way,  Clark  Kerr  has  been  fired."   That  is  the 
first  that  I  heard  of  it.   So  that  is  the  story. 

Now,  at  this  point  I  went  out  and  turned  on  the 
television,  and  I  got  the  first  inkling  of  the  semantics 
battle.   Reagan  had  been  interviewed  when  he  first  came  down 
there,  and  he  said  that  Clark  had  asked  for  a  vote  of 
confidence.   As  a  matter  of  fact,  that  didn't  surprise  me 


very  much  in  terms  of  my  conversation  with  Clark  in 
November.   In  fact  I  would  have  done  the  same  thing.   I 
think  frankly  I  would  have  done  it  a  little  differently;  I 
would  have  resigned  out  of  hand.   But  that  is  just  a 
question  of  style,  the  principle  is  the  same.   Now  I  read 
Clark's  statement  in  the  paper  the  next  morning  that  he  had 
done  no  such  thing.   Well,  at  this  point  I  was,  needless  to 
say,  concerned  on  two  points:   First  of  all,  Andy  [Andrew 
J.]  Hamilton  had  called  me  and  said  that  the  press  wanted  a 
comment.   I  said,  "I  am  not  going  to  say  a  damn  thing  until 
I  know  what  this  is  all  about."   So  I  got  ahold  of  some  of 
the  regents,  got  ahold  of  Mrs.  Chandler,  in  fact  the  one  I 
finally  got  hold  of.   I  said,  "Please  tell  me  what 
happened."   And  then  she  told  me,  and  I  suddenly  realized 
here  that  we  had  a  semantic  problem.   You  ask  for  a  vote  of 
confidence  in  so  many  words,  or  do  you  simply  say,  "I  cannot 
do  my  job  unless  it  is  clear  that  I  have  the  confidence  of 
the  regents,  the  support  of  the  regents"?   I  am  sure  that 
you  will  be  interviewing  Mrs.  Chandler  and  Mr.  [Theodore  R.] 
Meyer;  they  were  there  and  they  were  the  ones,  apparently, 
that  had  the  conversation. 

I  then  called  Clark  to  try  to  tell  him  how  sorry  I  was 
this  turned  out  this  way.   Nobody  answered  the  phone.   I 
couldn't  get  through,  just  a  constant  busy  signal.   So  I 
tried  the  next  day  and  I  tried  for  two  days,  and  I  finally 


called  Harry  [R.]  Wellman  and  he  said,  "I  don't  think  Clark 
will  take  your  call;  he  isn't  talking  to  anybody."   He  had 
gone  off  to  his  ranch,  or  something.   I  wrote  him  a  letter, 
a  personal  letter  in  my  own  hand,  telling  him  how  sorry  I 
was,  how  tragic  I  felt  the  whole  episode  was--like  a  Russian 
novel--starting  two  and  a  half  years  ago. 

That  was  when  I  began  to  make  some  statements.   I  made 
statement  number  one,  that  I  thought  it  was  a  great  loss  to 
the  university.   I  made  statement  number  two,  saying  that  I 
thought  that  the  people  who  would  suffer  the  most  were  the 
ones  that  either  deliberately  or  inadvertently  were 
responsible  for  it,  namely  those  who  created  the  riots, 
those  members  of  the  faculty  at  Berkeley  who  out  of  some 
kind  of  sense  of  frustration  or  naivete  fanned  the  flames. 
Because  they  represented  the  liberal  element  of  the 
university,  and  nobody  had  protected  freedom  and  the  right 
of  individuality  within  the  university  better  than  the  man 
that  they  had  helped  destroy.   Thirdly,  I  think  I  said--and 
I  believe  it--that  although  Clark  Kerr  and  I  had  profound 
disagreements  concerning  decentralization  and  concerning 
internal  management,  nobody  had  more  respect  than  I  for  his 
overall  philosophy  about  the  meaning  of  a  university,  what 
it  was  supposed  to  do,  rights  of  students,  faculty,  freedom. 
Nobody  was  in  fuller  agreement  with  him  than  I,  and  that  I 
thought  the  record,  once  the  dust  had  settled,  would  show 


that  Kerr  had  been  one  of  the  really  outstanding  presidents 
in  the  history  of  the  system. 

Any  further  statements  that  I  made  ( they  weren ' t 
statements  really)  had  to  do  with  an  attempt  to  clarify-- 
which  I  finally  realized  was  none  of  my  business  and  so  I 
stopped  talking  about  it--the  question  of  who  was  really 
responsible.   Did  the  regents  fire  Kerr  or  did  Kerr  ask  the 
regents  to  do  something  to  guarantee  that  he  would  be  fired? 
This  kind  of  chicken-or-the-egg  kind  of  thing.   My  position 
here  was  an  attempt  to  prevent  further  erosion  of  the  public 
image  of  the  regents,  because  in  the  long  run,  I  believe  the 
University  of  California  or  the  University  of  California 
system- -however  you  wish  to  describe  it  these  days--will 
depend  more  than  anything  else  on  the  constitutional 
authority  of  the  regents.   I  don't  believe  they  will  retain 
that  constitutional  authority  unless  they  retain  the 
confidence  of  the  people  in  the  state  of  California.   So  in 
terms  of  the  objective,  non-ad  hominem  issue,  I  have  done  my 
level  best  in  the  last  several  months  to  try  to  build  up  the 
confidence  of  the  public  in  the  regents.   That  is  a  very 
complicated,  long  answer  to  a  simple  question. 
STADTMAN:   It  is  a  good  answer. 

MURPHY:   "I  am  told  that  you  would  favor  reorganizing  the 
university  into  a  regional  system.   Is  that  so?   If  so, 
why?"   That  is  not  so.   Let  me  make  my  position  about  the 


governance  of  the  university  very  clear.   I  believe  that 
there  should  be  one  board  of  regents  for  the  system.   I 
believe  the  board  should  have  full  constitutional 
independence  and  authority.   I  believe  that  there  is  a 
possibility  of  reshaping  the  board,  but  I  think  that  is 
unimportant,  basically,  whether  the  terms  are  sixteen  years 
or  twelve  years,  whether  there  is  ex  officio  or  not  ex 
officio.   There  should  be  one  board  with  full  constitutional 
authority.   I  believe  that  there  should  be  one  president 
with  a  staff.   I  believe  that  that  office  should  primarily 
be  a  planning,  policy-making  office,  a  planning,  policy- 
making, budget-making,  postaudit  analytical  office,  serving 
the  regents  and  serving  the  system.   I  believe  that  that 
office  and  only  that  office  should  be  in  contact  with  the 
legislature  and  with  the  governor  and  with  the  Coordinating 
Council  on  Higher  Education.   I  believe  that  once  budgets 
are  agreed  to  and  money  is  distributed,  there  should  be 
maximum  local  authority  to  spend  that  money,  transfer  money 
in  and  out  of  budget  lines,  etc.,  and  there  should  be 
maximum  decentralization  of  operations  within  the  policy  and 
within  the  budget  that  has  been  made  and  with  a  full 
recognition  that  there  will  be  a  post-audit.   And  if  a 
fellow  can't  do  the  job,  he  goes  out,  but  you  don't  tell  him 
how  do  it,  the  chancellor  I  mean. 

Now,  I  believe  that  the  regents  must  organize 


themselves,  however,  in  a  way  to  make  themselves  much  more 
familiar  with  each  of  the  campuses.   Let  me  be  specific.   If 
Roger  Heyns  were  president  of  the  University  of  Michigan,  he 
would  be  meeting  with  his  board  at  Ann  Arbor  to  talk  about 
Ann  Arbor  once  every  month.   Berkeley  is  more  complicated 
than  Ann  Arbor.   Roger  Heyns  meets  with  the  regents  in  a 
once-removed  relationship  and  in  a  relationship  where  he  is 
in  direct  dialogue  with  the  regents  about  Berkeley's 
problems  at  best  thirty  minutes  a  months,  the  same  with  me, 
and  this  is  nonsense,  just  nonsense.   The  regents  don't 
really  know  what  is  going  on  on  the  campuses,  in  the  subtle 
in-between  nuances.   How  do  you  start  a  dialogue  with  the 
regents  about  a  little  cloud  that  I  see  on  the  horizon  at 
UCLA  that  a  year  from  now  could  lead  to  a  crisis,  do  it 
confidentially  and  carefully  and  analytically,  so  that  when 
you  make  the  final  decision  you  make  it  with  the  sense  of 
the  problem  rather  than  just  off  the  top  of  your  head,  the 
way  the  regents  make  their  decisions  these  days  about  so 
many  things? 

I  hope  that  somehow  in  this  organization  you  could 
create  a  pattern--  I  will  give  you  one  example,  and  this  is 
merely  an  example.   The  regents  could  break  themselves  down 
into  groups  of,  let  us  say,  three- -two  or  three.   Each  of 
them  for  a  period  of  no  longer  than  three  years  would  be 
that  subcommittee,  the  subcommittee  of  Berkeley,  the 


subcommittee  of  UCLA,  the  subcommittee  of  Riverside.   Now, 
they  would  shift  every  three  years  so  that  no  one  over  the 
time  could  have  a  proprietary  interest  in  any  one  campus. 
The  regents  would  then  appoint  from  the  local  region,  let  us 
take  UCLA,  to  the  subcommittee  of  UCLA  six  distinguished 
citizens  of  Los  Angeles.   Now,  the  regents'  official 
meetings  where  they  [conduct]  de  jure  business  at  the 
university  would  be  every  other  month.   Every  other  month 
the  regents  would  meet  somewhere  and  deal  with  the  things 
that  they  deal  with  now.   Every  other  month  the  two  or  three 
regents  on  the  subcommittee  with  the  seven  other  people 
would  meet  on  the  Berkeley  campus  or  the  UCLA  campus  for  two 
days,  and  here  the  chancellor  or  the  president  or  the  vice 
presidents,  or  however  you  want  it,  would  talk  about  their 
specific  problems.   Then  when  they  came  together  on  the 
every  other  month  basis,  as  specific  proposals  came  in  to 
the  regents  there  would  not  only  be  the  statewide 
administration,  the  campus  administration,  but  at  least  two 
or  three  regents  who  were  thoroughly  familiar  with  this 
problem,  or  whatever  the  issues.   Now,  the  campus  committee 
would  have  no  legal  authority,  but  it  would  be  of  such  a 
distinguished  type  that  what  the  chairman  of  the  board  of 
the  Bank  of  America,  the  chairman  of  Lockheed,  the  head  of 
AFL-CIO  [American  Federation  of  Labor-Congress  of  Industrial 
Organizations] ,  the  editor  of  the  Los  Angeles  Times--  What 


they  had  to  say  obviously  would  have  tremendous  influence, 
and  this  would  be  input.   And,  furthermore,  it  would  be  a 
tremendous  public  relations  thing.   You  draw  in  the  life  of 
the  university  to  the  leadership  of  the  state  of  California, 
that  now  is  kept  out  to  a  certain  sense.   Now,  there  are 
some  problems,  I  recognize.   But  let  me  point  out  that  if  a 
regent  over  a  period  of  sixteen  years--  Say  three  or  four 
years--  Let's  use  four  years.   At  the  end  of  sixteen  years 
he  would  at  least  be  intimately  familiar  with  four  campuses 
of  the  university.   Today,  few  regents  are  intimately 
familiar  with  any  campuses. 

STADTMAN:   And  because  of  certain  similarities  of  campus 
problems,  their  acquaintance  would  be  even  deeper  still. 
MURPHY:   Yes,  sir.   But  if  you  call  that  a  regional  system, 
then  okay,  but  it  is  by  no  means  splitting  the  university 

STADTMAN:   What  I  had  reference  to  was  something  like  the 
Texas  plan. 

MURPHY:   No.   The  furthest  I  would  be  willing  to  go  is  the 
thing  that  I  just  described,  or  some  counterpart  to  it. 

"What  do  you  believe  are  the  most  important 
achievements  of  your  chancellorship?"   I  have  said  something 
about  that. 

"Chancellors  tend  to  react  alike  to  questions  of 
university  decentralization?"   They  do  these  days. 


STADTMAN:   Do  you  think  this  is  due  largely  to  what  has 

happened  since  1951? 

MURPHY:   I  believe  so.   That  is  a  prejudiced  answer,  but  I 

believe  so.   At  least  I  can  tell  you  that  there  was  by  no 

means--  Well,  to  be  quite  honest  with  you,  when  we  started 

to  talk  about  this  in  1960,  it  isn't  that  chancellors  spoke 

against  it;  they  just  didn't  open  their  mouths. 

STADT^4AN:   Tell  me  this.   About  the  time  of  his  dismissal, 

wasn't  it  true  that  President  Kerr  had  gone  just  about  as 

far  as  anybody  had  asked  him  to  go  in  decentralization? 

Except  in  terms--!  understand  there  were  semantic  problems-- 

of  the  language  of  it.   Aside  from  that-- 

MURPHY:   Yes,  I  think  it  is  fair  to  say  that  there  is  very 

little  decentralization  left  to  be  done.   There  are  some 

nuts  and  bolts  still  to  be  dealt  with,  but  there  is  very 

little  decentralization  left,  proper  decentralization  left, 

after  last  January. 

STADTMAN:   Isn't  one  of  the  things  that  we  have  to  be 

careful  of  in  the  next  six  months  or  a  year,  with  a  new 

president  coming  on,  is  the  regents  really  assuming  by 

necessity  a  large  share  of  the  responsibility  of 

administration  of  the  university?   Of  this  battle  losing 

some  ground? 

MURPHY:   Yes,  sir,  very  definitely,  and  I  think  any  man 

coming  in  would  be  well  advised  to  get  thoroughly  briefed 


before  he  accepted  the  job  and  make  some  written  conditions 
just  on  this  point.   I  think  if  we  lag  back  and  go  back  to 
these  old  days  when  regents  were  tampering  and  trying  to 
evaluate  $300  transfers  and  all  this  nonsense,  it  would  be  a 
tragedy  for  the  university.   I  personally  will  fight  the 
regents  as  hard  as  any  president,  or  anybody  else,  to 
prevent  this  from  happening,  because  I  have  been  in  this  job 
long  enough  to  know  that  if  there  is  any  backing  up  on  the 
decentralization  thing,  I  can't  do  the  job.   You  were 
willing  to  stay  even  though  it  was  tough  when  you  could  see 
a  ray  of  hope- -I  mean  that  the  movement  was  positive- -but 
when  you  see  retrogression  when  it  isn't  even  fully 
completed  yet,  then  this  would  be  a  very  negative  thing.   I 
don't  think  fellows  like  Heyns  or  Galbraith  or  myself  would 
stay  under  those  circumstances. 

STADT^4AN:   If  you  have  a  two  o'clock  appointment- - 
MURPHY:   "What  would  you  consider  to  be  the  essence  of  the 
1967  spirit  of  UCLA?"   Well,  that  we  are  on  the  go,  that  the 
distinguished  university  in  worldwide  terms  is  not  a  cliche 
but  is  possible  of  achievement,  and  we  are  closer  to  it  than 
we  realized.   There  is,  I  think,  a  sense  of  vitality,  a 
sense  of  pride,  growing  pride,  and  a  sense  of  self- 

"How  would  you  like  to  have  it  regarded  by  the  people 
of  the  state?"   As  a  distinguished  university  that  is 


contributing  to  an  important  part  of  the  life  of  the  state. 

"By  the  rest  of  the  university  system?"   I  would  like 
to  have  it  thought  of  as,  well,  as  a  distinguished 

Are  there  any  other  questions? 
STADTMAN:   There  is  only  one  question:   You  are  on  the 
record  publicly  as  saying  that  you  are  not  interested  in  the 

MURPHY:   That  is  correct. 

STADTMAN:   There  is  a  general  concern  now  that  this  position 
is  going  to  be  eroded.   Do  you  sense  that  this  is  a 

MURPHY:   I  think  anybody  who  takes  the  job  on  the  theory 
that  he  is  taking  a  classical  university  presidency  is  going 
to  be  disappointed,  because  it  can  never  be  that.   You  see, 
this  is  no  longer  a  university  as  Harvard  is  a  university. 
This  is  a  unique,  unprecedented  system  of  higher  education 
really  made  up  of  nine  universities,  one  day  twelve.   The 
president  of  the  University  of  California  has,  therefore, 
got  to  be  quite  as  unprecedented  as  the  system  itself  if  the 
two  are  to  match.   Now,  I  think  what  one  is  talking  about  is 
a  man  who  does  not  bear  the  relationship  that  Nathan  Pusey 
bears  to  Harvard,  but  more  a  man  who  bears  the  relationship 
that  the  minister  of  higher  education  of  West  Germany  bears 
to  the  universities  of  West  Germany.   It  is  a  ministerial 


job  rather  than  an  administrative  job.   Policy-making, 
budget-making,  analytical,  planning,  etc. 
STADT^4AN:   How  about  statesmanship? 

MURPHY:   Above  everything  else  statesmanship.   Communicating 
the  importance  and  consequences  of  a  great  system  of  public 
higher  education  to  the  people  of  the  state.   It  may  be  the 
most  important  statesman  education  job  in  America,  because 
the  way  the  University  of  California  has  gone  from  a  single- 
campus  university  to  a  system  of  higher  education  is  the  way 
many  others  have  got  to  go  as  well,  so  it  really  has  great 
consequences  for  the  whole  country.   Now,  this  means  that 
the  job  is  quite  as  exciting  in  its  way  as  it  used  to  be 
when  Benjamin  Ide  Wheeler  was  there- -maybe  much  more 
exciting- -but  it  has  to  be  a  job  that  is  accepted  in  terms 
of  what  the  job  is.   Now,  my  position  is  clear:   I  am  in 
higher  education  because  I  like  the  interplay  of  the  human 
relationship.   I  am  not  an  office  fellow  basically;  I  like 
to  deal  with  students,  with  faculty,  to  take  little  things, 
start  them  and  watch  them  grow,  like  a  program  of  African 
studies.   My  interest  in  higher  education  is  the  campus 
relationship.   The  job  in  Berkeley  is  a  corporate  statesman 
job,  like  going  into  the  president's  cabinet,  as  it  were. 
It  is  in  the  office,  and  this  does  not  appeal  to  me.   If  I 
were  wanting  to  take  a  corporate  job  I  would  go  into 
industry,  I  would  suspect,  because  this  fascinates  me,  too, 


for  other  reasons.   It  is  not,  therefore,  that  I  think  it  is 
a  bad  job;  it  is  just  that  I  am  a  round  peg  and  it  is  a 
square  hole. 
STADTMAN:   I  get  it. 

MURPHY:   And  may  I  say  frankly,  since  this  is  only  for  the 
archives,  I  have  not  only  stated  my  disinterest  in  the 
presidency  publicly,  but  I  am  now  prepared  to  say,  since  the 
Chronicle  wrote  about  it,  that  early  on  I  wrote  a  firm 
letter  to  the  committee  of  the  regents  seeking  a  new 
president  saying  that  if  I  were  on  the  list,  I  would  hope 
they  would  take  me  off,  because  I  could  conceive  of  no 
circumstances  in  which  I  felt  I  could  accept  the  appointment 
if  offered. 

STADTMAN:   Not  in  any  context  of  vision  of  weakness-- 
MURPHY:   On  the  contrary,  I  have  said  that  they  should 
strengthen  and  build  the  image  of  this  role  by  all  possible 
means . 


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